“With five dishes? Yes, and no way. I know how much work that is, and that’s more than even I like to take on. I hope you don’t mind, but I cheated. I found the recipe for the chicken in the kitchen. It was labeled ‘Karen’s favorite.’”
Throat tight, Karen put down her fork and looked away. “Yeah, Mom always was a stickler. Wrote down everything. You should see her journals. Filled to the brim and I’m not talking a few. She said what good was memories if you never shared them.” Looking up, she smiled. “She was a great lady.”
“You're lucky to have memories. I have…well mostly it’s photographs of stuff I should remember and don’t.”
Picking up her wine glass, she sipped the pale liquid. “For stuff from the sea, this isn’t bad.”
He put a hand over hers. “Look, I…I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know how hard it is to lose your parents—both at the same time. That sucks no matter what age you are.”
She nodded. She knew she should pull away, make some kind of joke, but she couldn’t.
He was the one to pull away. He glanced at the beach and ocean and shook his head. “You know what the worst part about it was? It was so damn dumb.” She saw the agony in his eyes and heard it in his voice. “I was pissed off at them for years. Why them? Why us? They were good people and we were happy. And it just sucked big time.”
She gave a small laugh. “I know. And then if you tell any
one you either get too much sympathy or—”
“Too much curiosity.”
She nodded. “It was hard that I wasn’t here for them. I felt like I should have been here.”
“Don’t you have like a hospital and emergency services?”
Sitting back in her chair, she picked at her chicken. “On the main island. We do have a nurse and midwife here though.”
“Wow. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever have a baby.” He laughed. “So what did you do before you came over to follow in your parents’ inn-keeping shoes?”
“I’m an attorney. Or was.”
“Ah, that explains it. The bulldog attitude, why you’re so damn suspicious of everything.”
“Excuse me, but just what do you mean by that?” Sitting up, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t be suspicious of someone showing up with a story and not much else?”
He held up his hands. “Didn’t mean anything bad by it. Some of my best friends are lawyers. Well, not friends, but they keep my company out of trouble. Mostly. I just meant you came across with a ‘don’t take no crap from no one’ chip on your shoulder.”
Karen dug into her chicken. “It is the way I was raised. My father was an attorney before he retired to the island. He fell in love with the place.”
Mike glanced around. The sound of the surf rushing onto the beach and the cry of birds filled the quite. He pulled in a breath and let it out. “Yeah, I can see how it can get under your skin when it’s not trying to kill you. How about we go inside and dig up some dessert?”
She stood up. “We have more work to do. I’ve been meaning to repaint the main building and I’ve got some furniture I have got to get rid of.”
Mike groaned. “Of all the islands and all the hotels, I would have to end up with a slave driver for a boss. Okay, lead on. What else can I do for you today, ma’am?”
Chapter Six
Four hours later Mike just wanted to crawl into his bed and stay there. For a month. He needed another shower—he stank of his own sweat. Or a swim. The blue waters of the sea had been calling to him all afternoon. But he couldn’t even manage the energy to stumble down to the beach for a quick dip.
He’d gotten one, “You did a good job. Thanks.” And three smiles from his temporary boss. The smiles almost made up for everything else. The world lit up when Karen Whitaker smiled.
She was also becoming more interesting the more time he spent with her. She seemed tough—a firecracker. But then he’d catch her in one of her moods, staring up at the sky, or at the hotel, her eyes huge and almost swimming with emotion. For a heartbeat, she’d look close to heartbreak. She was in some kind of trouble—he knew that distant look in her eyes meant worries. Judging by the amount of work to be done around this place—and the lack of staff—he was betting money was one of the troubles. He had yet to find out what other troubles might be piling up on her.
But he might be one of those troubles headed for her. Or maybe he was going to be the solution for her. Maybe she was over her head and just looking for a way out—a way back to the States.
He smiled at that idea. He’d love to see her in New York, in some tight, short dress and high heels and…and what? Here he was seeing her as a date for a few hot nights in New York, but when did he ever have more with a girl? Either they got tired of his demanding work schedule and dumped him, or he waved them on their way before he got bored with them. Somehow, Karen wasn’t boring. Not so far at least.
A soft knock sounded on his door. He gave a groan and Karen’s bright voice came though the thin wood “Want some dinner? I’ve got frozen pizza in the oven.”
Dragging himself out of bed, he met her at the door. “Where do you find the energy?”