Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

Sky grinned. “You were the one who told us the sex was amazing. I was so envious I wanted to poke you in the eye with a stick. At that point in my life I’d only been on the receiving end of awkward teenage fumbling, but you’d had the real thing. Mature guy who knew everything about sex. He must have been the perfect first time. And second time.”

Brittany felt as if she’d been fried in hot oil. “I can hardly remember. I probably exaggerated to impress you.”

“Lying has never been part of our friendship.”

Emily gave a sigh of exasperation. “She was eighteen. It was her first time. She’s turned it into something big in her mind, that’s all.”

The corner of Sky’s mouth dimpled with wicked humor. “Was it big? Because any moment now I’m going to leave Richard and try it for myself.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Eat another olive, Sky. Do anything except talk.”

“I’m just trying to establish the facts, that’s all. I grew up in a house full of lawyers. I can’t help myself. So Dr. Forrest—” Sky adopted a formal tone “—you need to remember you are under oath. Was sex with Zachary Flynn the best you’ve ever had in your life?”

“Maybe.” It was something she tried not to think about because the good feelings were all mixed up with the bad, but both her friends were looking at her and she sighed. “Yes.”

Skylar glanced triumphantly at Emily. “Your witness.”

Emily shook her head and walked to the fridge for the second bottle of wine. “You’re encouraging her to have sex with a man she hates.”

“Emotion doesn’t need to play a part. She should enjoy all that superior skill and experience without worrying about the rest of it. All hormones and no heart.”

“Not going to happen.” Brittany held out her glass. “I’m not interested and neither is he. There are no feelings on either side.”

“Are you sure about that? He broke into your house to save you. Those aren’t the actions of a guy who has no feelings.”

Brittany gave Emily a desperate look. “Can you stop her talking?”

“No. And I actually agree with her about that part.” Emily’s voice was soft as she topped up the glasses. “I think he cares, Brit.”

Brittany shook her head. “To most men a gesture of caring would be a bunch of flowers or a box of chocolates. To Zachary Flynn it’s a bit of B and E.”

“Did he break a window?”

“No.”

“A lock?”

She shifted in her seat. “No.”

“Then how did he get in?”

“I didn’t ask. I don’t want to know.”

“Well, you should.” Worried, Emily glanced at the kitchen door. “It means the cottage isn’t secure. If he can get in, so can someone else.”

Brittany rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He said the same thing, but it’s nonsense. Not everyone has his skills.”

“So you keep telling us.” Sky gave a dirty laugh. “Which brings us back to the original conversation.”

“Stop talking and eat.” Emily removed the casserole from the oven. “I can’t believe someone made this for you. The islanders are so kind. I’ll never forget the way they protected Lizzy when that awful journalist was trying to find her.” She set the casserole in the middle of the table and lifted the lid. “Smells amazing. Wine and herbs. Boeuf bourguignon?”

Skylar stood up, too, and headed for the drawers nearest to the door. Both girls had spent so much time here over the years that they moved around the kitchen as confidently as Brittany. “This is one of the many things I love about Puffin Island. If you mooch around the harbor looking brokenhearted you could eat free for the whole month. No cooking.” It was a well-known fact that Sky, despite being astonishingly creative in so many different ways, hated cooking. Today her contribution was to find napkins, twist them into pretty shapes and light a candle she found at the back of a drawer. Intercepting their glances, she shrugged. “What? I know w

e’re all girls, but I don’t see why every meal can’t be beautifully presented. We deserve a romantic atmosphere.”

“You sound like Kathleen. She always insisted we sat down at the table with napkins. No TV dinners or eating on the run.” Emily served rice and ladled the casserole into bowls. “I miss her.”

Brittany felt the pang of loss. “Me, too. I could do with having her here to kick my butt right now.” And to hug her and tell her everything would be all right. “It’s a sad truth that kicking your own butt is nowhere near as effective as someone else doing it.”