For Jessie's Sake
Kate Welsh
He’d do anything for his daughterYears ago Colin McCarthy was run out of town by Abby Hopewell’s wealthy, tyrannical father. Now he was a single father determined to make a stable home for his little girl. Until a stormy night brought the former bad boy face to face with the woman he thought he’d never see again…Abby had never forgiven Colin for taking her love, then skipping out on her. But when he and his daughter showed up at her doorstep, how could she turn them away?Trusting the handsome businessman was out of the question…even as desire reignited, tempting Abby to risk her heart one last time.
“Abby, what do you really have to lose?”
Colin went on. “I don’t know for sure how this last week felt to you, but for me, it hurts like hell to feel like I’m on the outside of your life, looking in.”
“I’m just trying to – ”
“To protect yourself,” he finished before she could. “We have so much history, Abby. To ignore what we feel…it’s just impossible. I’m not asking you to go to bed with me – not until we’re both sure of our feelings.”
Abby hesitated.
“I’d be good to you, Abby,” Colin whispered. “Come on. Give us a chance.”
Abby focused on Colin as he watched his daughter. He wore the open, loving smile reserved for Jessie. And she had to wonder where she’d ever find a man more worthy of a second chance…
KATE WELSH
is a two-time winner of Romance Writers of America’s coveted Golden Heart Award and was a finalist for the RITA® Award in 1999. Kate lives in Havertown, Pennsylvania, with her husband of over thirty years. When not at work in her home office, creating stories and the characters that populate them, Kate fills her time in other creative outlets. There are few crafts she hasn’t tried at least once or a sewing project that hasn’t been a delicious temptation. Those ideas she can’t resist grace her home or those of friends and family.
As a child she often lost herself in creating make- believe worlds and happily-ever-after tales. Kate turned back to creating happy endings when her husband challenged her to write down the stories in her head. Her goal is to entertain her readers with wholesome stories of romantic love.
For Jessie’s Sake
Kate Welsh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedication
Daddy,
You lived your final days as I wrote this book, ever unselfish, always gracious. You showed me so much just by the way you lived your life. You are my first hero and some of you lives in every hero I create. You taught me what a man should be, how a husband should love, how a father should protect, teach and nurture. You showed me that a legacy happens only by a life well lived. You told everyone who visited in those last years that you were the happiest man in the world – and you meant it. You always told us if you stood on the top of a mountain and looked back at your life, at every fork in the road, you’d know you’d made the right choice. I don’t know if I’ll be able to say that at the end of my life, but I do know I started on my road from the best place anyone could – from your loving arms. You will be forever missed. There will never be another like you because the Lord broke the mould the day you were born. I will be forever grateful that you were here for me and with me for so long.
Tatter
Acknowledgement
I would like to thank everyone
at Sand Castle Winery, especially Joseph,
for their invaluable information and
lovely winery and vineyard. Without your vision,
mine would never have been born.
Chapter One
Colin McCarthy had returned to Hopetown, and Abby Hopewell’s world had tilted off its axis.
Life as she’d known it—as she’d carefully recreated it—had just ended in a flash of thunder and lightning.
He stood in Cliff Walk’s gleaming foyer, dripping on her carefully restored hardwood floors. Worse, he still looked every bit as gorgeous as the last time she’d seen him.
Same thick mane of mahogany-colored hair. Same stormy blue eyes. She still felt the same electricity just being in his presence, the overwhelming need to feel his arms around her.
She clenched a fist under her desk. He was still the same man who’d become her first and only lover, then turned into a coldhearted stranger within minutes.
“Abby,” Colin said, and stared, clearly as shocked to see her as she was to see him. For a moment, his expression was gentle and loving, then hot and hungry the way it had been that one time…but then his lips tightened, his jaw hardened. His eyes went glacial. “What’s an illustrious Hopewell doing working as a desk clerk in a backwater bed-and-breakfast?”
The change puzzled her now as much as it had then. She’d done nothing but admit to loving him. Nothing but give him all she was—all she had to give. He was the one who’d changed. Who’d hurt her.
Nevertheless, hearing the tone in his voice tore her heart in two all over again, reminding her of the most painful moments of her life.
She’d stepped out of Colin’s bedroom that long-ago night they’d made love, still feeling cherished yet prepared for a bit of awkwardness. That would have made sense. What she hadn’t been ready for was Colin’s harsh dismissal of her and the feelings she’d thought they shared.
Abby had spent years rehearsing for this moment but, by showing up on her doorstep out of the blue, he’d taken her by surprise. She reached inside herself, searching for the calm she desperately needed, clearing her senses of the longing he’d always made her feel.
She wasn’t less nervous but she was in control, her tone cool and collected. She said in her frostiest tone, “Cliff Walk is actually a very successful and highly acclaimed establishment. And since I happen to be part owner and manager here,” she went on, her voice managing somehow to chill even further, “I have the right to ask you to remove yourself from the premises. Good night.”
The Hopewells didn’t have the money they’d had before her father’s death and the subsequent lawsuit that had all but bankrupted his estate. But they were no longer so badly off financially that she had to put up with having someone so detestable under her roof.
She looked back down at the receipts she’d carefully sorted. They’d been stirred like leaves in a hurricane when Colin had opened the door. With an annoyed huff Abby began resorting her piles, pretending his presence was of little consequence. She hoped he didn’t notice the way her hands shook.
Then a small voice brightened the stormy night while making Abby’s heart ache. “Oh, Daddy! I was right. It is a palace. And you bringed me to meet Snow White!”
Abby looked up to see a tiny cherub about four years old clinging to Colin’s leg under his dripping slicker. Without warning, the child broke away and zipped across the foyer to the Victorian desk where Abby sat rooted to her chair.
The little girl wore an expression of complete and total awe. Like Abby, she had pitch-black shoulder- length hair, but hers looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb in a week. Unlike Abby, who’d often cursed her fair skin, the child had a soft olive complexion that happened to be smeared with some undeterminated food. She had big, deep brown, nearly-black eyes—the left sporting a genuine black eye. Right then they were wide and adoring as she stared at Abby. The child’s clothes were rumpled, spotted with raindrops and more suited to a boy than a girl.
She was adorable.
And had her father not turned out to be the scum of the earth, she might have been Abby’s child. The night of Abby’s high school graduation had caused her so much grief that nine years later she still loathed the entire month of June.
And, of course, Colin McCarthy.
“Do you live in this palace?” Colin’s daughter asked, still apparently confusing Abby with a fairy- tale character.
Colin advanced and put his hands protectively on the child’s shoulders. “The lady just runs this bed-and- breakfast, Jessie. She lives in a big fancy house by the river.”
“Actually, I do live here,” Abby told the child, only too happy to contradict her father. “That way if a guest needs me for something in the middle of the night, I’m available. The house your daddy was talking about is Hopewell Manor. It’s where I grew up and it’s about half a mile up the road from Torthúil. That makes us neighbors.”
The little cherub crossed her arms. “Daddy says Torhool,” she pronounced carefully, “is a Irish word. Right, Daddy?”
Colin nodded, still hovering.
Jessie McCarthy was simply darling. Abby fought a grin as a new pain stabbed her heart. If there was a child, there was a mother? A wife.
Abby glanced at the door, but no one had followed them inside. So where was she?
“Torthúil mean fruitful,” Jessie said, grabbing Abby’s attention again.
“And when it was a farm it certainly was fruitful,” Abby agreed. “I used to walk down the road to buy pints of strawberries from your grandparents. Blackberries, too. Sometimes I’d get a nice crisp apple or peach to eat on my way home.” Memories flowed from her tongue, and she hoped Colin hadn’t noticed. In those days catching even a glimpse of him had been half the reason for the long walks.
And she’d told him so that fateful June night.
“I don’t like it there,” Jessie declared. “It’s a creepy house. I want to stay here. Then I can be a princess, like you.”
“I’m not really a princess,” Abby protested.
“That’s not the way I remember it,” Colin muttered.
Abby glared at him. Honestly, you’d think she was the one who’d hurt him and not the other way around. Not only had he cruelly dismissed her after she’d given him her body—and her love—he’d cost Abby her friendship, with his sister, Tracy.
Colin’s parents must have found out about that night—they’d probably overheard him talking to his friend, Harley Bryant, lying about how she’d offered herself to him and he’d turned her down. Whatever had happened, his parents had forbidden Tracy to be in Abby’s company ever again. Losing her closest friend had been devastating enough, but the rift had also set Tracy on a downward spiral that had killed her within months. Colin hadn’t been able to come home for Tracy’s funeral and so had robbed Abby of the opportunity to tell him his sister’s death was his fault.
Abby wanted badly to tell Colin what she thought of him right then and there, but didn’t want to upset his sweet child. Besides, she was no longer sure she wanted him to know how much past events still haunted her. She didn’t want him to have the satisfaction.
Colin stooped down to eye level with Jessie. “Kitten, why don’t you go explore that room in there,” he said, pointing toward the parlor. “But don’t touch anything. Okay?”
“Okay,” she sang out as she went to explore.
Colin watched her go, then turned to Abby. “I didn’t know the house had fallen into such disrepair or I would have made other arrangements.”
She’d liked his father and felt it only right to acknowledge his passing. “Before you go further, I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss, too. My father’s death is part of why I came back to take possession of Torthùil. But it’s not safe to stay there with Jessie. We could go into town but—” A loud clap of thunder and a bright flash of lightning lit up the foyer, Jessie shrieked in fear as she ran back to her father’s waiting arms. Colin scooped her up and held her tight. “It’s okay, Jess. I’ve got you.”
Abby stared at them for a long moment, remembering how it felt to be held in those arms in a very different type of embrace. Then Colin’s gaze returned to her and Abby snapped out of it, looking away.
As angry as she was, Abby couldn’t send a child back out into the storm. There were bed-and-breakfasts along the road leading to Hopetown, but her brother-in- law had already called to warn her how dangerous the road was tonight. The look in Colin’s eyes said he was well aware of the deteriorating conditions.
Abby sighed in defeat. “I wouldn’t send a dog out into this weather and certainly not a couple with a child. Is your wife in the car?”
Abby’s question took Colin by surprise. All his friends in L.A. and, of course, his family knew the story of his inconvenient marriage. He and Jessie had been on their own for so long that he’d forgotten most people would assume Jessie had a mother in her life.
“It’s just Jessie and me. We’re McCarthy and Daughter, right, partner?” he said and gave the child a short, affectionate squeeze.
Jessie, fright forgotten for the moment, pulled her head off his shoulder to kiss him on the cheek. Her smile stretched from ear to ear when she looked back at Abby and nodded vigorously. “Daddy and me am partners. We do everyfing togever.”
Abby stared for a long moment then nodded. “I have a room with twin beds.” She smiled at Jessie. “I don’t imagine Jessie wants to be far from her partner on a night like this.”
Colin frowned. “If you could show us to the room, I’ll get Jessie settled, then go back out to the truck for our things.”
“And leave her all alone in your room?” She shook her head. “Go now. I can keep an eye on her here.”
Colin hesitated. Even though Jessie was squirming to get down again so she could talk to “Snow,” he wasn’t sure he was comfortable leaving Abby with his child.
Abby sighed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, she’ll be perfectly safe here with me.”
He thought about it then gave her a quick nod. “Fine. I won’t be more than a minute or two.” He set Jessie down and rushed back out into the deluge. As he reached the edge of the perfectly restored Victorian’s porch, the sky lit up once again. He blinked. In the distance he would swear he’d seen what looked like a Tuscan village. On the next flash, row after row of grapevines blinked into view before the dark of night returned to hide them.
What on earth had this place become?
A deafening clap of thunder reminded him of his mission. Without further delay, Colin ducked his head and ran out into the torrential rain. He jumped into the cab of the truck in an effort to stay just a bit drier while gathering up their things. He reached back and pulled the overnight luggage from the backseat then noticed Jessie’s toys and her precious stuffed dog abandoned on the floor. He grinned as he picked it up. Can’t leaveyou behind, Dog-dog.
Jessie had been just shy of eleven months old when one of his sisters sent the stuffed animal for Christmas. Jessie had seen it under the tree and said “Dog-dog”— her first words after “Da-da.” The toy had been her constant companion since. Colin didn’t know if that was because Angelina had walked out of their lives for good around the time the toy arrived. Because of her attachment to Dog-dog, Colin worried constantly that there was a void in Jessie’s life that he’d failed to fill.
He’d married Angelina when she’d learned she was pregnant. The condom had failed and she’d been bitter about her pregnancy and the disruption of her acting career. Luckily he’d been able to appeal to her strict Catholic upbringing to convince her to carry the baby to term.
Angelina had married him for legal and insurance purposes only. They’d never lived together as man and wife. She had visited Jess sporadically for nearly a year, but then she’d decided to cut all ties to them and return to her native Brazil where stardom and a television series awaited.
Jessie had been his and his alone from the day she’d gone home from the hospital with Colin, and they’d been inseparable since. He chuckled as he stuffed her other toys into his bag and thought back to the looks he’d gotten when he’d shown up on the construction site the next workday after he brought her home. He’d had Jessie and a young nanny in the pickup’s cab and had parked a dilapidated construction trailer out front where they’d spend their days. The trailer had looked pretty bad, but he’d renovated and sanitized the inside within an inch of its remaining lifespan and had turned it into a traveling nursery.
The guys had all stood staring at him as if he’d lost his mind, but he’d taken Jess and that trailer to every house he’d renovated or flipped since. It had been her home away from home until just last week. She really was his partner. And she had more than fifty honorary aunts and uncles from his crews.
But she’d never really had a mother.
Lightning struck again, reminding him that she did have a father and she was probably missing him. Tucking Dog-dog inside his raincoat, Colin gathered up the luggage—one old UCLA gym bag and one brandnew Snow White rolling suitcase.
Snow White, he thought with gritted teeth as he ran for the front porch again. He’d had the same reaction to Abby the first day he’d become aware of the little girl growing up on the property next to Torthúil. She’d been farther upstream with her family on a picnic. The current had caught her inner tube and carried her away from them. She’d been unconcerned and laughing happily when he’d fished her out of the river near Torthúil’s levee. And the resemblance to the fairy-tale princess had only strengthened as she’d grown.
She’d truly looked the part by the time she’d hit her teenage years. It was about then that he’d realized his affection for his sister’s friend had grown into something more. Much more. He’d known she was too young for him and had enlisted in the army as soon as he graduated high school that next summer, hoping to put distance between them.
But as predicted by an old saying of his mother’s, absence had really made his heart grow fonder or he’d never have weakened four years later when he’d come home for his sister Tracy’s graduation. It had been Abby’s graduation, too. He’d thought Abby was still as innocent as her fairy-tale alter ego that day. But he’d been wrong. She had turned into a seductress in his absence.
Colin entered the lobby and froze in place. Jessie sat on the step below Abby happily having her hair combed, which was nothing short of a miracle since that really meant having it untangled. It was one of the few bones of contention between them. She didn’t want it cut short, but she didn’t want the tangles combed out, either.
“When we get this done, we’ll braid it,” Abby told Jessie. “If you wear it to bed braided, it won’t tangle as much. A satin pillowcase usually helps, too. I’ll give your daddy one to put on your pillow tonight. And there’s a rinse in your bathroom to help keep it silky so it tangles less to begin with. There. Now we braid it,” she said, drawing out the syllables as her fingers flew through Jessie’s hair, deftly doing as she’d promised. In seconds she was tying off a smooth sleek braid that hung down his daughter’s back.
“And now it’s done,” Abby went on. “Okay, hair combed and braided, hands and face washed. Looks like all you have left is to get your pj’s on and brush your teeth, and have your bedtime snack!”
“I even get a snack?” Jessie said with dreamy wonder. “Are you sure this isn’t a palace? What kind of cookies you have?”
After his thoughts in the car, seeing Abigail Hopewell attending his child so lovingly nearly took him to his knees. Jessie’s own mother had never shown her the easy kind of affection Abby seemed to dole out so naturally. Then he remembered what she’d done to him and he realized he shouldn’t let her within a country mile of his child. If it weren’t for his worry for Jessie at Torthúil, he’d whisk her out of here so fast Abby would barely see his dust.
“Well, let’s see. I think Genevieve made shortbread. And we always have lots of milk, of course,” she was saying to Jessie.
“Jessie’s allergic to milk,” he growled.
Jessie frowned, clearly wondering what was wrong with him since she rarely heard that tone of voice. At the same time Abby’s gaze snapped from him to Jessie with alarm. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, I had no idea but it’s okay, I have soy milk, too. Do you like that?”
“Uh-huh. Can I have some, Daddy?”
It was small of him, but Jessie looked so hopeful about having a treat—and if he wasn’t wrong, some more time with Abby—that he felt left out. He was Jessie’s hero and he wanted it to stay that way. “Sure, partner,” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. “But there’s someone here who was pretty scared out in the car. I’ll bet she’d like to have some hugs from her person.” He pulled out her stuffed companion.
“Dog-dog!” Jessie shrieked and ran to him, warming Colin’s heart with her grateful smile.
Abby stood, too, her face blank. Her tone became chilly. “I’ll bring her snack to your room. If you wouldn’t mind finding it on your own, it’s at the top of the stairs to the left. Number Ten.” She handed him the key and when their hands brushed he felt the familiar traitorous surge of raw need rush through him, something he remembered from all those years ago. And unless Colin missed his guess when Abby’s eyes flew to his, she’d felt it, too.
Colin snatched his hand back and frowned. This wouldn’t do. He had reasons for returning and Abby had nothing to do with them. “We can find it on our own,” he assured her. And once there he’d bolt the door against all she was still able to make him feel. “About the snack, we wouldn’t want to put you out. Jessie doesn’t need one. I’m sure you aren’t in the habit of playing waitress.”
Abby arched one of her finely shaped eyebrows. Her emerald eyes had gone as hard as stone, telling him that though she felt the same attraction she once had she didn’t want feelings for him, either. “Actually, I often cater to my guests. It’s my job. And I love it. I’ll be up with Jessie’s snack in a few minutes. Oh, and there’s an en suite bathroom in your room so you won’t need to worry that Jessie will wander in the middle of the night.”
Colin watched her go, childishly tempted to stick his tongue out at her retreating back. He raked a hand through his hair. Dear God, he’d lost at least five hundred points off the maturity scale since walking in the front door. Why was he letting her do this to him?
Because she’s always done things to you. That’swhat caused all the trouble in the first place. She’snever even needed to try.
“She isn’t Snow White, you know,” Jessie said, her voice full of awe. “But isn’t she won’erful?”
Colin could think of plenty of other words, but he tried to keep his tone calm for Jessie. “Let’s get you upstairs and ready for bed,” he all but growled.
And then he’d figure out a way to rid himself of the still-powerful attraction he apparently felt for Abby. Once and for all.
Chapter Two
Abby set the glass of vanilla-flavored soy milk and a plate of cookies on the tray, then added the crystal bud vase and the rose she’d picked earlier to save it from the approaching storm. She surveyed her work and nodded in approval. She wanted the evening to be special for Jessie since Torthúil had been such a disappointment to her. Besides, she thought every little girl should feel like a princess at least once in her life.
She smiled, remembering when she and her sisters were that age. All those magical bedtime rituals— snacks and stories, kisses and special toys. They always had their mother and Hannah Canton, their ever-faithful and affectionate housekeeper, fussing over them. Apparently Jessie had no one but a father who clearly didn’t even know how to avoid tangles in her hair.
With that thought fresh in her mind, Abby stopped as she passed the linen closet. She pulled down the satin pillowcase she’d mentioned and tucked it under her arm before moving like a rusted tin soldier toward the end of the hall.
She stood frozen at the door to Number Ten, afraid to face Colin again. What was the matter with her? This nervousness was a far cry from the righteous anger she wanted to feel. Should feel. In spite of what he’d done, this was attraction. Dangerous attraction. Her unwavering love for him hadn’t faded even after he’d rejected her so cruelly in front of his friend. Abby had held out hope that he’d arrive at Hopewell Manor to tell her he’d been trying to protect her reputation from Harley’s wagging tongue. But when she’d learned he’d left town ahead of schedule, Abby had buried her foolish, passionate dreams.
She’d forced herself to date two other men since that awful night. One had been a political science major in her sophomore year of college, the other a hotel manager who’d stayed at Cliff Walk during the first Hopetown Arts Festival a couple of years ago.
She’d been marginally attracted to both of them and tried to take both relationships to the next level, but she’d always frozen, instinctively pulling back when things got physical. When she’d asked for more time, neither had taken her request well. Both had cruelly dismissed her needs. Finally she’d decided to act as cold and remote as they’d accused her of being. Fear of making another mistake, of trusting her own judgment, had simply paralyzed her.
She’d learned her lesson not once but three times— she just wasn’t cut out for romance. Passion was an unruly, dangerous emotion, and she wasn’t willing to risk her heart again. So she’d carefully built a quiet, secure life for herself.
So what if some people thought it was too quiet. Too sterile. So what if she’d been called an ice queen by her ex-boyfriends? So what if the title now fit. It was comfortable.
Safe.
Abby stiffened her spine, refusing to dither any longer. Checking her expression in the hall mirror, she was gratified to find a cool look firmly in place. Colin could never know what he made her feel. He’d gloat or try to take advantage of it.
She took a deep breath. Ready to see him, she rapped on the door. As it swung open, Abby’s heart started thundering behind her ribs, but it was Jessie who answered. “Hi. Daddy’s gettin’ changed on account of he says he’s wet through his Skivvies. Is that my snack?”
Abby blinked away the flash of Colin sans Skivvies. “Y-yes,” she stammered, trying to drag her mind off that disturbing enticing vision. “And here’s the pillowcase I promised you.”
Jessie sucked in a deep breath, a sweet little gasp of awe and gratitude. Then she took the pillowcase and ran it across her cheek. “Oh, Miss Abby. So soft and silky.”
Abby smiled. “That’s why it works. Your hair will just slide over it and not tangle.”
The door to the bathroom flew open at the moment Jessie charged into her arms, wrapping her in an exuberant hug. Abby managed to steady the tray as Colin asked, “Jessie, who are you—” He froze in the doorway, frowning.
Abby could only stare. He was bare chested. His jeans were zipped, but the button was undone and he had a towel tossed over one strong, muscular shoulder. He still had those damned six-pack abs.
With loose-limbed grace, he walked toward her and reached for the tray. When his fingers made contact with hers, Abby jerked her hands away, nearly upsetting the glass. “I—I’m s-sorry.” She backed away toward the door. “I hope you like your snack, Jessie. Breakfast is at nine. Enjoy your stay at Cliff Walk.”
She made it to the hall and pulled the door closed. Heart pounding, she rested her forehead on the cool door and took a deep, calming breath. She had to get hold of herself. She couldn’t let his mere presence rattle her like this. He was nothing more than a rat in men’s clothing. Very little clothing to be sure, but a rat was a rat. No matter what he did or didn’t wear.
No matter what he did to her senses.
Determined to find her center and calm her troubled mind, Abby closed up her house for the night and retreated to the tower room. It had once been the maid’s room, but now it was her retreat. She stopped at the top of the stairs, waiting for the familiar sense of peace the place always brought her, but instead of feeling the comforting shelter the space usually gave her, an oppressive loneliness seemed to descend on her. Everyone in her life had someone but her. When she was upset her refuge was a place, not a person.
But that was the way she wanted it, she reminded herself. That was the way it had to be. Rather than wallow, she yanked at the buttons of her blouse and moved toward her dresser. It was simply the turbulent weather working on her. Or the shock of seeing Colin again.
Or maybe it was nothing more than the rapidly fading feeling of Jessie’s grateful hug. Or Colin’s touch.
Shaking herself loose of her useless observations, Abby stripped out of her clothes and got into her leotard. Then she sank to the yoga mat in front of the tall Victorian windows. After a deep cleansing breath, she moved into her first position, ignoring the flashes of lightning, the rumble and crack of the thunder, and sought her center—her peace.
An hour later she had twisted and stretched into every yoga position she’d mastered and had tried a few she hadn’t. Fresh from a shower, she climbed into bed and acknowledged the truth.
The past still haunted her.
She told herself that other than having a father who expected his children to earn his love, her early life had gone along just fine. All the trouble and turmoil had really started when she’d decided to stay at Tracy’s house on graduation night nine years ago.
She’d just turned out the light in Torthùil’s kitchen after washing the few dishes from her midnight snack when Colin’s voice had drifted in the back screen door of the McCarthys’ farmhouse.
Abby had loved Colin with all her heart and soul for years and had grown tired of being ignored and treated like a little girl. So she’d adopted what she’d hoped was a sexy stance, hoping he’d realize she really had grown up in his absence.
She’d called his name in her best Marilyn Monroe “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” voice and hope had stirred in her heart when her soldier boy seemed nervous. So she’d stood on tiptoe and brought her lips within inches of his.
To his credit he’d tried to warn her off after a hearty gulp of air, but it had been too late. She’d tasted victory. So she’d run her index finger down his chest and across those sexy abs. And passion had exploded between them…
Abby sprang up in bed. The storm raged outside her snug tower lair, but she was soaked to the skin. Soaked in sweat. She’d gone back to where she’d sworn she’d never go.
And all because Colin McCarthy was under her roof.
Colin sat in the chair by the window watching Jessie sleep. He didn’t have that luxury. Seeing Abby again had brought back memories of the painful series of incidents that had been a huge turning point in his life.
And what about her life?
She seemed so very different. Yet with Jessie, she was as sweet and kind as he remembered her being with his younger sisters. Abby had always worn a smile. Her eyes had always shone with joy. She’d been a little impish, with a verve for life that had always made him pause and see the enjoyment in the simplest things when she was around the McCarthy house— which was often.
It was the new coolness in her eyes that shocked him, almost as much as her presence at the B and B. The last time he’d seen those eyes they’d been filled with hurt and tears. He closed his own now, trying to forget what had caused the tears, and the price he’d been forced to pay for them the next day.
When that didn’t work, he realized he needed to do something he’d been avoiding since his decision to return to Hopetown. He needed to reexamine his part in the mess that had followed those stolen moments with Abby in his bed. Colin forced himself to examine how he’d handled his mistake.
The moment his mind had cleared of the effect of maybe one too many beers and Abby’s scent, the consequences of what they’d done had crashed in on him like a ten-ton weight.
Colin had felt panic rise just as he had the out-of-control desire not long before. She was still a kid who didn’t seem to see the mess they could have caused. First, he hadn’t used protection and she’d clearly been a virgin. They both had years of school left. And he’d also belatedly remembered he’d been lying with her naked in his arms and his room had barely been more than a converted porch off his parent’s kitchen!
When Harley Bryant walked into the kitchen, he’d jumped up and tossed his clothes on, ordering Abby to do the same. Harley Bryant had had the biggest mouth in two counties. Colin had stepped into the kitchen pulling the door shut behind him, assuming Abby would stay hidden, but she hadn’t. Harley had figured out what had happened, so Colin denied it. But he’d done it clumsily. If Abby had so much as touched him, she would have confirmed Harley’s suspicions and the whole town would’ve known. So the best he could do was to sneer that she was so young that her having made a pass at him was a joke. Then he’d coldly sent her off to bed.
God, he’d been such a damned clod. He should have found a better way to disarm the situation than being so cruel to her. And he had been cruel. In trying to protect her, he’d hurt her more than gossip ever could have.
Lightning lit the sky outside the tall window in the front room at Cliff Walk at the same moment thunder cracked and literally rattled the windowpanes. Jessie sat up and screamed before Colin could make it to the bed. “It’s okay, honey. Daddy’s here.”
He settled on the bed facing her and Jessie covered her ears as another clap rolled overhead. “It’s so loud. I don’t like it.”
Colin scooped her up into his lap and snuggled her head under his chin. “It always helps me to remember that thunder can’t hurt anyone. It’s just the clouds banging together.”
Jessie yawned expansively. “Well, I wish they’d stop it.”
“Me, too,” he admitted. He turned so his back was against the headboard, still cuddling Jessie to his chest. He rubbed her back, trying to soothe her fears. “Try to sleep. Daddy’ll hold you till the storm passes, and tomorrow we’ll get started on our house. Once the repairs are done, you can help me pick the colors of the rooms.” He smiled in the dark. “You’re going to like it here. I promise.”
Jessie yawned. “Brown like my magic rock. I want the house to match my rock,” she told him then dropped off to sleep. He smiled a little sadly remembering when, like Jessie, he’d thought a daddy could fix anything. But he knew that, like his father before him, there were a lot of things he and Jessie’s “magic rock” couldn’t fix.
He’d picked up the rock she treasured on the morning he’d left Torthúil—all but run out of town on a rail by James Hopewell. He’d kept it to remind him of the home he’d lost so he’d never stop fighting to be as rich and powerful as the man who’d forced him to leave. That day he hadn’t been sure he’d ever see Torthúil again. He’d given the rock to Jessie when he’d known they would be returning because the closer the move to Pennsylvania got, the more anxious she’d grown of the changes to come.
And it was the things neither he nor the “magic rock” could fix—his own guilt and his anger at Abby—that were keeping him awake.
As he sat there nine years later, holding Jessie in his arms, revisiting what had happened that morning so long ago, things looked different. James Hopewell’s anger toward Colin looked different. Wouldn’t Colin go to nearly any length to protect Jessie? So, okay, maybe Hopewell showing up at Torthúil the next day was understandable. He’d still been shepherding two of his daughters through their teenage years, so having expected Colin’s parents to be involved in the meeting made sense. As was telling Colin to get out of town, to stay out so he and Abby had no further contact. That, too, fell in the forgivable range.
But the rest of what Hopewell had done was still simply unforgivable and inexcusable. He had threatened to see to it that the local bank foreclosed on the McCarthy’s farm if Colin didn’t agree to all his demands. Because their loan had been slightly delinquent and because Hopewell was powerful enough to make good on the threat, Colin had known it was a real possibility. And if Abby had turned up pregnant, nothing would have saved his family from her father’s wrath.
Then later that summer Hopewell had crossed the line into cruelty by refusing to allow Colin to return to Hopetown for his younger sister’s funeral.
Some would say Hopewell had done him a favor, and Colin acknowledged that it was probably true. He’d made Colin so angry that he’d worked like a Trojan to achieve the success he’d desired. But Abby had betrayed him by telling her father what had happened.
He hadn’t believed she’d gone to her father, had nearly denied the truth until Hopewell went on to explain that he’d met Abby when she’d come in that morning. She’d been crying, he said, so he’d comforted her, then pressed her for the truth until she confessed everything. Nothing would have convinced Colin to betray Abby but, he sighed, she had been young. Immature. Now that he’d seen her all grown- up, that fact was pretty hard to ignore, and harder to hold against her.
But there was still Tracy’s death and the belief he’d long harbored in his heart, that Abby had somehow played a part in his sister’s death. How else would Tracy have met the rich kid who’d been drunk behind the wheel of the boat the day she was killed? He’d no doubt been a member of the privileged crowd the Hopewells hung around with.
Well, James Hopewell was dead now. And that left Colin with a problem. What did he do with not just his anger toward Hopewell for his ill treatment but with this powerful attraction to the man’s daughter?
Chapter Three
Abby peeked around the kitchen door into Cliff Walk’s dining room. Her ace chef, Genevieve Richards, had prepared the meals each guest had requested the night before and now everyone sat happily eating. Everyone but Colin and his adorable child. Abby had been so knocked off her stride last night that she’d forgotten to ask them to choose from the selections on the breakfast menu. Consequently Genevieve hadn’t even known they’d checked in.
“All set, Abby,” Genevieve said from right next to her.
Abby jumped a mile, nearly upsetting the tray in her chef’s hand.
“Oh, God, Genevieve,” she gasped. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
Genevieve looked down at her generous waistline and chuckled. “I’m too heavy on my feet to sneak anywhere and you know it.”
“Then what were you doing right there next to me?” Abby demanded.
She was immensely fond of her chubby cook who always joked about her weight and her unrepentant love of food. So when Genevieve looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, Abby wasn’t about to argue the point since she was nearly sure she had.
“I was on my way into the dining room to serve the last of the meals. You were in my way,” Genevieve explained patiently.
Abby felt a blush color her cheeks. “Sorry. I was preoccupied.”
“You sure are interested in that hunk out there. Why aren’t you in there chatting with him and your other guests the way you usually do?”
“Interested? Me? Don’t be silly. I loathe the man.” She refused to comment on her neglect of the guests. The way Genevieve was staring at her, Abby already felt like a bug under a microscope, so she didn’t intend to give her friend more ammunition.
“Any woman who’d loathe a man who looks like that and treats his kid like she’s the center of his universe needs to have her head examined. I think all this catering to strangers is rotting your brain, girl. Now move out of my way. I have better things to do than stand around watching you hide from life.”
“I do not hide from life,” Abby objected. “I have a very full life and a busy one. And what could you possibly have to do with everyone’s meal ready?”
“I have dinner to arrange. All your current guests have elected to upgrade and have dinner here this evening. I’m going Italian tonight. I want to get started on the fresh pasta.”
Abby scowled. “Wait a minute. All? Even Colin and his daughter?”
“Yup. Even them. I think you’d better get used to him being around.” Genevieve grinned.
Abby did just the opposite. “I thought he’d be leaving today. He knows I don’t want him here and he didn’t really want to stay here, either.”
“Since when do you discourage a paying customer from staying? And why wouldn’t he want to stay here? It’s the nicest B and B in the area.” Her focus sharpened more. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a history here?”
“Colin McCarthy is poison. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Genevieve was one of the newer residents of the area. The only McCarthy family member she’d ever met was Erin. Colin’s youngest sister had stayed at Cliff Walk when she’d revisited the area on her way home from college that spring. Abby prayed Genevieve didn’t ask any more questions. Her anger at Colin was too personal and too deep to talk about. She never had and she never would.
She put her hand on the door and glanced at Genevieve. “The little girl’s scrambled eggs are getting cold,” she grumbled pointedly and pushed through the door. The cook had no choice but to follow since Abby stood holding the door open for her.
Abby should have been ready to face Colin. But then she heard his rich baritone voice telling Jessie her breakfast had arrived. Abby’s legs started to quake as memories washed over her—that voice teasing her sweetly, whispering sexual praises in her ear one minute and rejecting her the next.
She turned away. “Enjoy your eggs, sweetheart,” she managed to say, as Genevieve placed the plate in front of Jessie. Then, trying to stay as far away from Colin as possible, Abby walked across the room to stand closer to the door of her office. “Has everyone made plans for the day?” she asked, and nearly sighed in relief when an elderly guest, Mr. Kane, nodded.
“We hoped to go into town,” he said. “Is the road clear yet?”
Abby shook her head. “I called the state police a short while ago. The rock slide should be cleared by around three this afternoon but not before. You can still go into town, though.” She gave them alternate directions that would take them into New Jersey and to the town across the river from Hopetown. “The bridge there is open and you’ll cross back into Pennsylvania right in the heart of Hopetown. Silly as it sounds, it’s actually faster, though nowhere near as quaint or scenic. You may enjoy exploring their shops, too.”
She stepped into her office then, pleased that she’d managed to keep her eyes off Colin. She picked up a pile of the brochures she’d put together with a map showing the alternate route into Hopetown and the written directions.
Unfortunately, Colin was speaking when she stepped back into the dining room and her eyes zinged right to him as if they had no will of their own. He glanced her way at the exact moment her gaze landed on him. He stopped mid-sentence for a long beat and they stared at each other. There was something turbulent in his eyes, then he blinked and looked away, finishing his comment to Mr. Kane.
Abby gave the elderly gentleman the stack of brochures to pass along the table to anyone who wanted one. She was thankful Mr. Kane was seated the farthest from Colin and so gave her all the excuse she needed to stay far away from her newest customer. Jessie was engrossed in her breakfast, but Colin looked up and their gazes locked once more—and held longer than they should have.
“You look pretty today, Miss Abby. Just like a princess,” Jessie said, looking up from her eggs.
Abby dragged her attention off Colin, grateful for Jessie’s comment. But it also surprised Abby, upon further examination, since all her clothes were essentially the same boring style. Her trendy oldest sister, Caroline, said Abby’s long, flowing skirts and Victorian-style blouses were matronly. Caroline or anyone else could call them what they wanted but, however they looked, Abby felt safe in them. She could hide in the soft layers. She did not feel at all like a princess. She was supposed to be an ice queen so she’d never be tempted to risk her heart again.
“Yep, all she needs is a tiara,” Colin quipped silkily. There were chuckles, and speculation suddenly twinkled in the eyes of most of the other guests. Abby refused to take Colin’s remark as flirting the way they apparently had. It was more likely a taunt about her privileged upbringing.
Besides no one flirted with her. And that was the way she wanted it.
And even if for some perverse reason he had been flirting, it was Colin McCarthy—so it meant nothing. Nothing at all.
Abby forced herself to smile pleasantly. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her calm existence or cause speculation and gossip about her.
“Thank you, Jessie. If you’ll all excuse me, I have some housekeeping chores to take care of,” Abby said. Then she turned to move toward her office again, holding her head high, retreating in as dignified a manner as she could manage.
Colin’s mind reeled. She was going off to what? Make beds and dust? What had happened to the rich daddy’s girl he’d once known?
He shook his head. He shouldn’t care.
Colin looked back down at his half-eaten breakfast, too agitated to finish. All through his meal, helplessly unable to look away, he’d watched Abby as she’d chatted with her other guests. The conclusion he’d reached was that though he didn’t want to be, he was still as attracted to Abby Hopewell as he’d been years ago. And that made him feel unsettled, uncomfortable and just plain stupid.
He gave up on breakfast and hustled Jessie out to the pickup. Once he had them both belted in, he pulled the bottle of antacids out of the glove box and ate a handful, damning Abby for causing the familiar pain in his belly to blossom once again.
Then he looked back up at the Victorian he hadn’t yet seen in the light of day. It was perfect.
Every period detail was right on the money. Even the porch furniture was a trip back in time.
All of which meant Abby was probably the only woman he’d ever met who would understand his love for restoration and his obsession with historical accuracy.
At that moment Jessie squealed and bounced up and down in her seat. “Look at all the plants, Daddy. And what’s those bunch of houses over there?”
“I noticed them last night, but I don’t think they’re houses. One of the people at breakfast said something about visiting the Hopewell’s winery. And those plants are grape vines.”
“There sure are lots of them and that wine-ry is real pretty. Not as special as Abby’s Castle but it’s pretty.”
“It’s call Cliff Walk, kitten, not Abby’s Castle,” Colin told his starry-eyed daughter.
“I still think it’s her castle. She even lives in the tower just like Rapunzel. Maybe that’s her town over there, Daddy,” Jessie speculated, her mind hopping subjects again.
Colin looked back at the B and B and noticed Abby staring out a window at them—her expression frozen in sadness. “I want to find out what it’s all about,” he said, his mind occupied with questions other than Jessie’s.
“They look a little like our old house but different, too,” Jessie went on, sounding as confused as he felt.
He mentally shook himself. Their home had had Spanish influences, like so many others in Southern California. This was subtly different. In the light of day he saw it was definitely Tuscan.
“Actually I think this is Italian. It looks like a village I visited in Italy when I was in the army. That’s where Mrs. Hopewell is from.”
Jessie’s smooth brow puckered with deep thought. “There’s so many new peoples here. Who Mrs. Hopewell is, Daddy?”
Colin smiled. “That would be Abby’s mom. Let’s go exploring before we head over to the house.” Maybe he’d get some questions answered from the queen mother.
“Am I still gonna have to stay in the living room and on the porch when we get to Torthúil?”
“It’s no different than usual when I start on a house. Till I get the place inspected, and find out for sure where you’re safe, you stay put in the rooms I’ve checked out.”
“But we don’t have the trailer no more. You said this time—”
“I was wrong, partner. Daddies can make mistakes.” And wasn’t that an understatement, considering who owned the house where they were staying and the mess the one he owned was in. “It’s been years since I was here,” he continued as they drew closer to the little Hopewell village that made him feel as if they’d stepped right into the pages of a tour book on Tuscany. “I guess I remembered Torthúil the way it was when I left.”
She gave him a long-suffering sigh. “Then let’s go ’sploring. It’s better than not doin’ nothin’ at Torthúil. Why Gram didn’t fix the roof when it got old?”
“No one’s lived in it for years. A small farm like Gram’s in Florida doesn’t make enough money to survive down there and fix up a house she doesn’t live in up here. Nobody who saw the house told me we needed a new roof or I’d have gotten it fixed. I wish they had but—”
“Look at that big doggie!” Jessie shrieked in his ear. “Isn’t he won’erful?”
Big? He was massive. The Hopewells had a dog? A big dog? Things certainly had changed. “You sure it’s a dog, kitten? Looks more like a horse to me.”
Jessie giggled, strained to sit taller the closer he drove so she could still see the leaping canine monster. Colin parked in the crushed-granite parking lot labeled Visitor Parking, then unbuckled Jessie from her booster seat behind him. He swung her in front of him where she usually took the opportunity to grab the wheel to pretend driving. Today the dog took all her attention, leaping around like a goat as he chased a ball thrown by a tall blond boy who looked about nine or ten.
Colin decided that no matter how affectionate the dog seemed, he wasn’t putting Jessie down to get trampled. But he needn’t have worried about the animal jumping on her or knocking her down. Instead he galloped over and all but fell at Colin’s feet, presenting his belly for scratching. The boy followed and obliged his pet.
“Can I pet him?” Jessie gazed at Colin with pleading eyes. At that moment he silently promised to get her the puppy she’d been asking for since she turned three.
“Sure you can pet him,” the blond boy said. “You could probably use him for a pillow. I do all the time.”
Carefully and slowly, Colin eased Jessie to the ground. All the big dog did was let his tongue loll out of his mouth and pant harder as Jessie none too gently moved her hand over his belly. Then he put his head back and moaned in ecstacy.
Jessie giggled. “He’s funny.”
“My dad calls him a character,” the boy said. “My uncle Nic bought him for me the day they brought my new baby cousin home to Hopewell Manor from the hospital.”
“Actually, if you remember, Uncle Nic bought him for your cousin,” a woman said from behind them. “Lucky for you Thunder’s a little too big for a premature newborn.”
“I never thought I’d see the day dogs were allowed at Hopewell Manor,” Colin remarked absently, waiting for Juliana Hopewell to recognize him.
She walked out the door of the nearby building and cocked her head, her eyes narrowed as if in thought. He was ready for another hard-as-emerald stare when she realized who he was, but instead her green eyes lit with delight. “Colin McCarthy? My Lord, but you remind me of Tracy. And actually Thunder only visits the manor. This is Jamie. He’s Caroline’s son. They live in a house they built toward the back of the winery property.
“The baby Thunder was originally bought for is Sammie’s. Nikki was just barely five pounds the day she came home. Her father was rushing his fences a bit and overjoyed at finally getting her home.” She chuckled. “So, besides having a lovely little girl of your own, how are you, Colin? And what are you doing back here after so many years?”
Apparently James Hopewell hadn’t shared with his wife what had happened between Colin and Abby. Well, he wouldn’t be rude to Juliana when she obviously hadn’t had anything to do with what her husband had done. Besides, from what he’d heard, she’d been on the receiving end of Hopewell’s cruelty herself.
“I came back to live at Torthúil, but the house is in much worse shape than I’d thought it would be. Jessie and I are staying at Cliff Walk until I can renovate it. We arrived in the middle of the storm last night. It was pretty dark so I didn’t get to see everything you’ve done here.” He made a sweeping gesture toward what he could now see was indeed a replica of a Tuscan town square surrounded by four buildings. They were laid out like four sides of a pentagon, leaving the square and the fifth side open to a view of the vines that terraced down the hillside toward the cliffs.
“The girls and I started all this after their father died. This building is the headquarters of Hopewell Winery.” She pointed left. “That one is the winery itself. It houses the gift shop, tasting room and some of the machinery. We had the wine cellars blasted into the rock and they’re below us. And this building and the one at the far end of the court is Bella Villa. It’s a banquet facility. There are three halls between the two buildings and our offices.”
“I hadn’t heard about any of this. I was also surprised to find Abby at Cliff Walk last night.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding somewhat distressed. “I’d better make sure she’s all right. You know, Tracy’s death devastated her, even though they’d drifted apart that last summer. Seeing you probably brought it all up for her again. I imagine coming home for the first time since then did the same for you. That was terribly mean of your commander not to let you come home for your own sister’s funeral.” She reached out and took his hand. “I am so sorry for your losses. I know you and Tracy were close. And we heard about your father’s death when Erin stayed here in May.”
She frowned. “Was Abby very upset when she saw you again?”
“I suppose she was,” Colin said carefully, his mind whirling once again. Abby and Tracy hadn’t been close that summer? They’d practically been sisters for years. What could have happened between them? He wished now that he hadn’t told his parents he never wanted to hear Abby’s name again. And he wished they hadn’t listened.
“She did take your sister’s death so hard. After that, and my divorce from her father, Abby was never really the same.” Juliana looked over toward Cliff Walk, then blinked, seeming to realize that perhaps she’d said too much. She cleared her throat as if to punctuate a change in subject. “So, how about the two-dollar tour? If we’re going to be neighbors again, you should know what’s going on up here on the plateau.”
Juliana Hopewell had no idea how much Colin wanted to figure out exactly what was going on. And what had gone on in his absence. “I think I’ll take you up on that.
“Jessie,” he called, noticing the boy and his dog had led his daughter farther away than he was comfortable with. They were going toward the middle of the plateau, where all the Hopewell enterprises sat, and he remembered the cliffs that led down from there. He and his buddies had even climbed them in their daredevil teens. And Jessie tended to be more of a daredevil than he’d ever been at her age. No way did he want her finding out about those rocky cliffs.
When she arrived back at his side, Colin took her hand. “Mrs. Hopewell said she’d take us to see all the buildings.”
Jessie frowned up at him. “Can’t I stay and play with the doggie?”
“Jamie, you come, too,” Juliana called to her grandson. “Thunder can be along for part of the tour,” Juliana told the boy. Then she turned back to Colin and explained, “I’m designated sitter for the next two hours. Oh, by the way, if you’re planning on a dog, I’d like to recommend the shelter in Hopetown.”
“An animal shelter? Isn’t that a little out of character for Hopetown? Last I remember, the good citizens would rather drown a mutt than house it till it was adopted.”
Juliana Hopewell arched on elegant eyebrow. She was a beautiful woman even as she must be nearing her fifties. “Maybe the Hopetown of ten years ago, but a lot has changed around here in the last several years. You’ll see.” She turned away, gestured to the grapevines growing in terraced rows and started what he imagined was a routine tour. “We started with fifty-three thousand young plants cloned from the finest European stock. The family buried each plant in winter for…”
Colin, both children and the dog followed her inside the winery. And within minutes, Jessie was as enthralled as he was with the big kettles and presses and stack after stack of barrels in the cellar. He was pleasantly surprised by the few sips of the wines he tried. Hopewell produced a top-shelf product. He enjoyed the tour especially because James Hopewell was probably spinning in his grave. His ex-wife and daughters had lent his prestigious family name to several establishments he’d have considered beneath him.
Juliana was CEO of all three family-owned businesses. Caroline Hopewell Westerly was CFO of the winery and Bella Villa. Samantha was in charge of the farming and the winery operations, which really would have frosted her father. And Abby was entirely in charge of Cliff Walk and was also PR director for all the Hopewell enterprises.
After the tour, Colin spent the rest of the day at Torthùil, tearing out the destroyed plaster ceilings and walls and cataloguing the changes he planned to make. He did everything with an eye toward preserving the hundred-and-fifty-year tradition of the classic colonial farmhouse built by Liam McCarthy, an ancestor back in the 1860s for whom his father had been named.
But hard labor couldn’t keep questions about Abby from his mind. He remembered the adventurous, happy girl he’d fished out of the river who’d become fast friends with his sister. She’d been impulsive and mischievous, yet generous and good-hearted. Then he’d come home for Christmas six months after joining the army to find a new Abby. She was still the coltish teen he’d left behind, but she was quieter and more reserved than he’d remembered. Then he’d gone home for Tracy’s graduation and found Abby had turned into a siren who’d all but forced him to dance with her at the graduation party his parents had thrown for both girls. It was later that night that his barriers had fallen and he’d let her pull him in with her sensual innocence, trapping his mind and heart.
And then there was now. She was uptight, prissy and cold. But, that said, there was also a bit of the old Abby in the way she treated Jessie. It was probably just her good business sense, he told himself. As long as she catered to Jessie, the other guests would approve, preserving their good image of Cliff Walk and its proprietor.
He’d gone looking for answers and had only come up with more questions about the past—and more problems with the present. What had happened between Abby and Tracy? And if she and Abby had no longer been friends, then that meant Abby had had no part in his sister’s death.
Colin didn’t know where today’s glimpse into those months between his departure and Tracy’s death left him, but one thing was clear.
He needed answers.
And once he had them, Colin wasn’t sure he’d like them.
Not one little bit.
Chapter Four
Abby spent the evening and all the next day trying to avoid Colin at every turn.
She was too busy to waste time worrying about the past and the particularly annoying customer in her present. That’s all Colin was.
She had to focus—she was planning to attend a meeting at the town hall that night, and she was anxious to see Harley Bryant’s reaction to her now that she was officially on the ballot to run against him in November’s mayoral election.
As dinner approached, Abby changed into a light summer suit and pinned her hair up in the no-nonsense style appropriate for tonight’s meeting of the zoning commission. As a candidate for the mayor of Hopetown, she needed to project a serious and businesslike image. She’d never have run for public office, but Harley Bryant had to be ousted before he ran Hopetown into the ground. More than once Harley had shamelessly used his position as mayor to further his own agenda, one that seemed to include destroying everything her mother and sisters had worked to build. She’d more or less been drafted by the chamber of commerce and other concerned citizens, and initially she’d felt she had no choice but to run for the office. But now she wanted to beat him. She wanted him contained and silenced so that his wheeling and dealing could only hurt those who chose to do business with Bryant Savings and Loan, his family business.
To get into town, Abby planned to borrow the little Mercedes she and her mother shared. Abby knew she had some time before Juliana arrived with the car. She’d dropped her mother off at the manor, then zip down the winding road into Hopetown. Anxious to be on her way, she settled into one of the big wicker rockers on the porch to wait.
It was only a routine meeting tonight and since she was well prepared, Abby let her mind wander as she stared out over the terraces of ripening vines. Before she knew it, her mind veered to thoughts of Colin. Then the porch squeaked behind her.
Startled by the intrusion, Abby turned. As if conjured by her thoughts, he stood just outside the front door. From the look of surprise on his handsome face, she was sure he was just as unprepared as she was to find themselves alone together.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.
“Why not? I told you I live here,” she replied, recovering quickly despite her racing heart.
A smirk crossed his features. “That’s what I hear, but you couldn’t prove it by how scarce the Snow White sightings have been. Jessie’s going to drive me crazy asking where you are. Are you hiding from us, Miss Abby?”
Abby stood, her lips clamped together to keep herself from answering truthfully that she was hiding from him. As she tried to walk away, he put a hand on her arm to stop her retreat. Her racing heart now thundered at his touch. Pointedly, Abby looked down at his hand, then defiantly back up at him.
Her gaze locked with his. He stared. She stared. Unable to look away, she nearly sighed in relief when a piping voice said joyously, “Miss Abby! You’re here! Daddy found you.”
Colin blinked and dropped his hand from her arm as if burned. “She’s here. We were just talking about old times,” he lied—but not very smoothly. His voice sounded rough, as though his throat was dry. He coughed a little then went on, “Abby wasn’t so hard to find when I lived around here before. In fact, our family couldn’t seem to get rid of her. She was always around because she was your Aunt Tracy’s best friend.”
“Aunt Tracy’s the one who got dead, right?”
“Yes.” He coughed again, clearly fighting emotion. “When she was eighteen,” he amended. From the thin line of his lips and the angry flare in his eyes, Abby guessed he’d remembered not just Tracy’s death but his inability to attend the funeral.
Well, she carried a lot of anger about Tracy’s death too—but it was directed at Colin. If Tracy had still been her friend, she would have listened to the truth about Kiel Laughlin when Abby tried to tell her. Tracy had had one huge fault—money. Feeling the lack of it, and desperately wanting it. She’d seen Abby’s mother’s life as a fairy tale come true. And she’d thought Kiel was her Prince Charming.
But Kiel was spoiled and reckless. One day while Tracy stood on the bow of his father’s boat, Kiel took his eyes off the river to take another swig of his beer. He ran them aground at high rate of speed and Tracy broke her neck when she flew off and landed in the shallow water. He’d been charged with manslaughter. There hadn’t been any witnesses on the shore, though, and the one witness against him had changed her story at the last minute. Everyone else on the boat had always claimed to have been looking the other way. With no evidence, Kiel had been found not guilty.
Tracy had been with Kiel for one reason—to capture him and his wealth. She hadn’t understood that the real treasure was a marriage like Tracy’s parents had shared. No matter the lack of material goods, the McCarthys’ marriage had been one made in heaven.
No so with the Hopewells. Abby’s mother had found wealth when she wed her husband but within months of Tracy’s death, the marriage dissolved.
It was only after ending her last attempt at a relationship that Abby had come to understand that she had to put the lessons of that painful summer to work in her own life. She would never again let a man get close to her. She was impulsive and had a passionate nature that would surely lead her to heartbreak again and again. Abby knew what a dangerous combination those could be just by looking at the mess her father had made of all their lives.
James Hopewell had gone on a tour of Europe after graduation from college. While in Tuscany he’d met Juliana and was swept away by passion for the seventeen-year-old daughter of a local vintner. He’d married her in spite of her father’s objections, then he’d brought his young wife home, where he’d found his own parents no less displeased by the union.
Years later he’d once again impulsively succumbed to his craving for passion and he’d betrayed Juliana. It was only months after Abby’s own debacle with Colin, and Tracy’s death, that her mother discovered James in the arms of another woman. Then her oldest sister’s heart had been broken when her fiancé called off their engagement because of the scandal surrounding the family.
Lesson learned.
That was why Abby had spent these past years studiously hiding behind a carefully built wall of self-discipline and self-denial. She couldn’t trust her own judgment. Not where men—and certainly not love— were concerned.
And she never would.
“…so after that,” Abby heard Colin saying, seemingly from a distance, “when you saw my sister, Tracy, you nearly always saw Abby Hopewell.”
Abby winced as memories and emotions flooded her thoughts. The pain of Tracy’s death had never really dulled as Abby had been promised it would. Much as she blamed Colin for somehow causing the rift between them, she blamed herself just as much for giving Tracy a craving for the kinds of things only money could buy.
Abby shook off the painful memories. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet my mother,” she lied, and fled down the porch steps. She’d wait for Juliana over at the winery even if she broke her neck stomping along the cracked-stone driveway in her high heels.
As she entered the town hall at exactly two minutes to seven, Abby looked around for her core group of lovable troublemakers. Sure enough, they were all there, seated down front and ready for action. Jean Anne, co-owner of the Hopetown Hotel and the Blue Moon Restaurant and Bar, turned around and waved to the seat they’d saved her. Jerry, Jean Anne’s husband, wasn’t there—probably the one home minding the kids and the hotel. As Abby strode down the center aisle, Harry Clark, owner of a local biker boutique, stood and turned toward her. Deep frown lines wrinkled his forehead. Harry looked like the kind of man you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley—or even mess with in broad daylight—but he was a pussycat.
“What’s up?” she asked, seeing that even Muriel Haversham seemed disturbed.
Muriel was the owner of Seek and Find, one of the many antique stores that dotted the town. She was usually unflappable and sunny. She didn’t look a bit sunny tonight. “Harley’s changed the agenda—tabled the federal grant discussion.”
Abby frowned. “What could be more important than getting federal help to solve the town’s flooding problem? Is he waiting for a fourth flood? Three in the last eighteen months isn’t enough?”
Harry waved the agenda. She stooped down and picked a copy off the chair she was apparently meant to occupy. “It just says development.”
“I don’t like the mystery,” Harry grumbled. “He’s probably trying to use tonight as a platform for his reelection. He’ll probably start trying to blame the Hopewell complex for the flooding again.”
“Don’t worry,” she promised. “I’m not about to let Harley Bryant get away with any posturing or diversionary tactics. When they did the perk test to check for our drainage it proved nothing runs off that plateau.”
“We have confidence in you, kid,” Albert Canter said in his gruff voice. Al was a blacksmith and seventy-five if he was a day. For any tourist who asked, he demonstrated his craft as gleefully as he displayed and sold his handcrafted iron work. Al just loved the town he’d retired to. He still considered himself retired even though he probably worked sixty-hour weeks during tourist season. Which had pretty much become year-round for the town.
After she took her seat, a steady stream of interested citizens entered the hall. Abby wished some of the other business owners would stand up to Harley, but she’d come to understand that going against him was uncomfortable for them. Some had spouses or children who worked for Harley at Bryant Savings and Loan. Others were friendly with Shirley Bryant—the shy, lovely woman he’d won over to the shock of nearly everyone in town. Still others had known his parents. Hopetown remained a small town, despite the large tourist trade.
Before long, Harley sauntered toward the podium and tapped on the microphone. “Can I have your attention?”
Just then the doors at the back of the hall opened and drew all eyes, Abby’s included. Colin McCarthy walked boldly up to the front row on the left side of the small hall. He turned toward Abby and grinned before sitting down. He certainly seemed to be jumping into life in Hopetown quickly, she thought cynically.
Abby straightened her shoulders, refusing to let him see that his mere presence set her on edge. Then Harley began speaking. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I tabled the grant discussion tonight. First off, we have six months after our little water problem along Main to deal with that application. Second, I don’t have figures from everyone, so if that includes you, get them to my office. And third, I have something more exciting to talk about tonight. I’d like to introduce my old friend, Colin McCarthy. Colin, come on up and get reacquainted with everyone.”
Colin stood and loped confidently up to the podium as Bryant continued, “Colin has returned to Hopetown as quite a success story. An award-winning architect and successful builder on the Left Coast, he’s come back here to live and to make Hopetown part of his next venture. I’m asking the zoning board for rezoning and an acreage variance on the land Colin owns so we can expedite matters and get the ball moving on his project. This will be a real shot in the arm for the town’s coffers. Colin, suppose you give us a brief explanation of your plans.”
“Thanks, Harley,” Colin said, looking unruffled and self-assured as he stepped to the microphone in spite of grumbling from some in the audience. “I’ve returned to develop the land that was the site of my family’s farm for generations.”
Abby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Develop upstream from the town? Was Colin off his rocker? Was Harley?
“Torthúil Gardens will be a townhouse and condo community with a large segment along the river dedicated to over fifty-five adult living surrounded by condo-association-owned land,” Colin went on. “In this way we limit population increases of school-age children and the burden of increasing property taxes to fund new schools. I’m also considering a clubhouse, pool and exercise center that any resident of Hopetown can use with the purchase of an annual membership.”
The grumbling grew louder as Colin put up his hand, quieting everyone. “This is all in the proposal stages. I should be ready with detailed drawings and plans within a few weeks.”
Then Harley spoke. “I’m proud to have secured the financing Colin needs for this project. The tax revenue alone will do more for Hopetown than any federal grant.”
Abby popped up out of her seat. “And if you develop Torthúil the way it sounds like you plan to, you’ll need even bigger federal grants to clean up the mess the additional run-off will cause the town.” Shouts of agreement came from pockets around the room.
“Harley, how can you even consider this after all the flooding?” she demanded. “Oh, wait,” she continued, narrowing her eyes as she stared Bryant down. “Since you secured the financing, your bank’ll make a bundle on this, won’t it? But what’s the tax base going to look like if there’s no town left, Harley?”
She turned toward the zoning board. Her family had tangled with most of them before. “I beg all of you to remember that this town is about more than tax revenue. It’s our duty as Hopetown citizens to guard our historical landmarks. I urge the committee to table this discussion for tonight and consider carefully any plans submitted.
“And I’d like to remind you all how hard Harley Bryant fought behind the scenes to keep my family from expanding our operation.” She knew he’d wanted them to fail so his bank would be free to foreclose and gain control of the winery. Unfortunately she had no proof. “I’d also like to remind you that because we sit so high, we have hundreds more feet of drainage under our complex than Torthúil. Plus, a very large percentage of the plateau where our facility sits was always planned as farmland and a nature preserve. The perk tests you all reviewed proved our use of the land has zero impact on the river.”
Abby finally took a chance and looked up at Colin. His jaw was rock hard, his eyes cold as he stared down at her. She glanced away and over to where the zoning board sat.
After a few moments’ deliberation, they approved only the proposed work on Colin’s farmhouse, tabling further discussion until the August meeting when his plans were called on to be ready for consideration. Colin had lost this round. And would lose the next, and the next, and the next if she had anything to say about it.
She’d fight the devil himself to save the town named for and founded by her ancestor Josiah Hopewell. Hopetown had been on the banks of the Delaware River since 1689, and no money-grubbing builder was going to help wipe it off the map.
Hopetown had been hit by three major floods in the past eighteen months, the runoff that endangered many homes and roads was caused by too much development in the entire watershed region. Colin’s plans would only increase the runoff just upstream, dangerously close to town.
The Hopewell name still meant something around there and she’d use every bit of influence it gave her. She’d beat Colin McCarthy and see his dreams crushed.
Just the way he’d crushed hers.
Chapter Five
Colin stood in the shadow of one of the big oaks that shaded the oldest section of Main Street, waiting for Abby to leave the meeting. He’d spent the past ten minutes trying once again to control his temper, which seemed to flare where she was concerned.
Earlier in the evening, when he’d run into her on the porch, he’d purposely brought up Tracy to see her reaction. Juliana Hopewell was right. Abby still deeply mourned his little sister.
Knowing that, he had to try to understand the past, so he’d called his mother. She’d confessed that his father had ordered Tracy to end her friendship with Abby. He’d told Tracy only that James Hopewell had threatened to ruin them financially if Abby had any contact with the McCarthys. He hadn’t told Tracy the whole truth because they’d decided that in the short term they wouldn’t tell any of the younger children what had happened. It had seemed unnecessary to risk upsetting them about the threat to their parents’ livelihood.
Now, though, Colin needed to understand what had happened. Now he knew why Tracy and Abby had ended their friendship. Abby hadn’t had a thing to do with Tracy’s death. Which left him with no reason to be angry—and a boatload of leftover hunger for her that he could do nothing about.
Because, in spite of any attraction she still felt for him, she had every reason to think he’d used her that night. And for some reason she seemed to hold him responsible for what had happened to Tracy, which made no sense at all. It had been Abby, young and upset though she had been, who’d caved in to her father’s demands and given away their secret.
Now she’d tried to torpedo his project, causing his anger to blaze anew. Once again the great and glorious Hopewell name alone was more important within the town than anything or anyone else.
Harley had made it plain that they needed this development to widen the town’s tax base. And the McCarthy family needed it too. Torthúil had begun failing about a year before Tracy’s death and that expense had nearly put them over the edge. It had been Liam McCarthy’s dream to preserve the farm for future generations—to sell Torthúil would have broken his father’s already wounded heart. But his daughter’s death had left him a nearly broken man. They’d sold off all the expensive farm machinery to pay off the banknote and moved to Florida to improve their health—and forget the past.
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