THEIR FIRST STOP WAS Maddie’s house to allow her to change clothes. She quickly removed her skirt and cotton-knit sweater and put on khaki shorts and a cap-sleeved, brushed-denim top. They leashed the happily barking golden retriever, left the house, and Maddie boldly looped her arm through Hank’s as they walked down the slightly buckling sidewalk toward the town proper. She handed him the dog’s leash. “Here. When she’s this excited, she drags me all over the place. So, this is your day, Hank. What do you want to see first?”
He squeezed her hand where she held on to his arm. “I’d like to see you being this happy all the time.”
Maddie laughed, drawing the attention of her neighbors, whom she waved to. “Morning, Mrs. Jessup, Mrs. Franks.” To Hank, she whispered, “Poor old things. Their husbands died at almost the same time. Then they moved in together. Celeste thinks they poisoned their men, but I don’t believe it.”
Hank looked over his shoulder at the elderly widows who were digging in a garden. “Damn. Remind me to steer clear.”
“I’ll do that.” Maddie sniffed the air, closing her eyes to get the full effect of the clean, slightly salty scent carried their way on a soft breeze. So invigorating. “Do you smell that, Hank?”
“Yeah. It was probably the dog.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m talking about the air. Isn’t it great? So clean and fresh.”
He leaned in close to her. Maddie felt his warm weight against her side and wanted to just bite him he was so wonderful. “I could describe you the same way,” he said. “Clean and fresh.”
Maddie pretended insult. “Well, great. You think of me as a dryer sheet?”
“A very pretty dryer sheet, though.” Hank bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips.
The casual intimacy of his kiss startled Maddie as much as it thrilled her. A kiss like that spoke of couplehood, of long-standing intimacy, of a free and easy association with each other. None of which they had. Suddenly she couldn’t walk. She stopped and stared questioningly up at him.
Hank looked just as surprised by his behavior as she felt. He stood with her there on the tree-shaded sidewalk, right next to the full-service gas station, in plain view of everyone in Hanscomb Harbor who cared to look, and stared into her eyes. For her part, Beamer yawned mightily and stood around patiently—right between Hank and Maddie. An effective chaperone.
“I’m sorry, Maddie,” Hank said, chuckling.
“For what?” She couldn’t believe how affected and dreamy she felt. Nor could she believe how delicious it was to stand here this close to Hank Madison and feel his body heat and stare so intimately into his dark, dark eyes. The man remained startlingly handsome. Black neatly styled hair, high forehead and cheekbones, a straight patrician nose, wide generous lips … and he smelled so good. Maddie barely suppressed a sigh of the variety usually reserved for movie-star idols.
With a look of bemusement on his face, Hank scratched at his temple. “I guess I’m sorry for that … kiss.”
Biting at her bottom lip, vaguely aware that she was playing the seductress, Maddie frowned. “You are? You’re sorry? Are you sure?”
Hank looked at a loss for words. He fiddled with Beamer’s leash. “I guess. I mean I shouldn’t have done that.”
Maddie tilted her head and arrowed him a look of invitation. She took no pity on the tall, dark, and handsome man she was slowly melting. “Really? Why not?”
Hank was now clearly confused by her behavior. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know I was going to do it.”
“You didn’t?” Maddie tucked her hair behind her ears and smoothed it back over her shoulders. She was only too aware of the effect her thick and curling, long blond hair had on men. And now she could only marvel at her bold self. Look at me. I’m like some cavewoman hussy trying to attract herself a big old club-wielding mate.
“Maddie, what’s wrong? What are you doing?”
She shrugged. “I’m just standing here, Hank. What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out what you’re doing.” He planted his hands at his trim waist and shifted his weight to one leg.
Maddie’s breath caught. His unconscious masculine grace was almost poetic. Maddie could just see him in a toga and leaping up onto a chariot. Look out, Ben Hur. She started to speak, but Beamer caught her attention when she apparently gave up and sat down. “I think Beamer’s trying to tell us something.”
“Could be. So tell me what you’re doing, Maddie. What’s this all about?” He gestured to indicate all of the outdoors around them—and then her. “And you. What’s this mood?”
Maddie smiled, leaning into him. “Do you like it?”
Hank frowned. “I think I do. But this isn’t like you. I’d swear you were trying to seduce me. And I feel stupid just saying that.”
Maddie quirked her mouth playfully and clasped her hands behind her back. “Well, you shouldn’t. Because I just might be, you know.”
“Seriously?” He liked that idea, said his arched eyebrows and the gleaming awareness in his eyes.
Now Maddie dissembled, playing the coquette. She turned and started walking … with a lot of sway in her hips. “I might be.” Over her shoulder she said, “How am I doing so far?”
Hank laughed out loud and then applauded … softly, seductively. “Pretty damned fine, I’d say, Maddie Copeland. Pretty damned fine.”
He tugged on Beamer’s leash and he and the dog jogged to catch up with her.
* * *
A couple hours later, having completed the grand walking tour of downtown Hanscomb Harbor—one street, many stop-ins to chat with proprietors, introduce Hank, and lament over the fleeing of the tourists—Maddie now sat with him in the white-painted gazebo that decorated the town square. Every now and then someone would stroll by and wave at Maddie and she’d speak. But for the most part, they had the town and the middle of the day to themselves.
Basking in a light, warm breeze, they enjoyed their chicken pitas. Refusing to feel guilty for having dropped her Monday responsibilities, Maddie smiled with the deliciousness of the perfect day and tucked into her sack lunch from the walk-up take-out window at Papa’s Diner. She leaned over to spread the waxy paper better so Beamer could scarf her own sandwich. Corned beef on rye. Frightening in its implications.
“We’re going to pay for that sandwich later.” Hank pointed to the dog’s lunch.
“Who doesn’t know that? But she loves it.” Maddie glanced down at the golden retriever and saw her send Hank—Maddie would swear in a court of law—an ears-lowered, mind-your-own-plate-Buster look. Maddie chuckled, staring across the small circular enclosure at Hank, who sat opposite her. “I guess she told you.”
Hank sipped at his iced tea and then said, “I guess she did. Sorry, girl.” Then, holding his pita in his other hand, he sent Maddie an assessing look. “Look at your cheeks glowing and that big smile. You’re the definition of having a great time. So what the heck made you just up and toss everything aside like this? I mean, I had to. We know that. But not you.”
Maddie wanted very much to say it was because of him, because she wanted to be with him. But she wasn’t quite brave enough for that, despite her earlier I-might-be-trying-to-seduce-you moment. “Actually, it was your mother.”
Hank nodded. “A good enough reason. One I can certainly understand.”
Maddie sent him an arch look. “Guess what? I think I like her.”
His expression was one of pure disbelief. “You do not.”
“But I do. It was something I saw in her eyes when you said you couldn’t believe she wanted to work.”
Hank sobered, really listening now. “Really? What did you see?”
Maddie shrugged as she picked out a bite of chicken and nibbled at it. “I’m not sure. It was like she was hurt that you would think she couldn’t do it.” Hank’s expression fell. Maddie rushed on. “I could be wrong. It just, I don’t know, made her seem more human to me. More real. It was like she suffered a moment when she feared she wasn’t necessary. Or vital.”
Hank seemed to have forgotten that he had an iced tea in one hand and a sandwich in the other. “Damn. All of that in one look? You really think I hurt her? I sure as hell didn’t mean to. I was just surprised. She’s never worked before. Never.”
By now Maddie had swallowed her bit of chicken. “Really? I’ve never known anyone before who never worked. Wow.”
“Well, don’t be fooled. She didn’t come here looking for work or to find herself. She knows who she is. What she wants to know is who you are and if you are any threat to her little world.”
Maddie shrugged. “I’d probably feel the same way, put in her position.”
Hank sat up straighter, as if he were surprised. “Would you look at you? Now you’re looking for ways to like her. That’s damned nice of you, Maddie.”
She made a wide gesture with her hands, pretending insult. “There it is again. That mutant ‘nice’ gene. Well, I guess it’s enough that Celeste likes her. And that you do.” Maddie frowned. “You do like her, right?”
“Of course I like her. She’s my mother.” Then Hank frowned, not quite looking at Maddie. “I guess I do. Yeah, I do.” He grinned. “She drives me crazy.” Then he sobered a bit. “What about your mother? Where’s she?”
Maddie looked down at her lap. “She died five years ago in a car wreck. With my father.” She looked up, meeting Hank’s sober, stricken gaze. “Icy roads. They were coming to see me in Greenwich Village.”
“I’m sorry, Maddie. I didn’t know.”
She smiled bravely, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s okay. I cling to Celeste for someone to love and drive me crazy.”
Hank nodded, setting down the remainder of his lunch and his drink. “I bet she does a bang-up job of that. So what were you doing in Greenwich Village?”
“I lived there while I went to college. Remember? We talked about this at the Captain’s Tavern. I went to Columbia. Majored in art history. Then I worked at the Whitney Museum for three years in research.”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. It’s all coming back to me. The sun goddess, right?”
“Right.”
“Still, I’m impressed. All that art stuff sounds pretty interesting.”
“Only to someone like me. And curators and collectors. And auction houses. And museums. Okay, a lot of people.”
“So how’d you end up back here? Wait.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “That jerk doctor, right?”
Maddie felt her cheeks heat up. She put her sandwich down next to her on the narrow wooden bench. “Yes. That jerk doctor. The whole left-at-the-altar thing that’s so tragic in movies.” She rolled her eyes, trying to be brave and show she was over it. “It’s not any better in real life, either. God. I just wanted to get away. I was so humiliated.”
“I guess you were. I’m sorry that happened to you, Maddie.”
She waved away his concern. “You poor man. Here I am trying to show you a good time on a beautiful day and you end up listening to my sob stories.”
“Not at all. I don’t see it that way.” Hank leaned back, putting a leg up on the bench, his knee bent, his hand resting lightly atop it, a relaxed pose that affected Maddie’s breathing.
“So. What about you? What’s your life story?” she chirped ever so brightly, trying not to stare openly at the powerful-looking muscles of his thigh under the confinement of his jeans.
“Not much to tell. Little rich kid. Country club existence. Private schools. Brat. Made my mother nuts. Never knew my father. He died in Vietnam when I was a baby.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Hank. I didn’t know. James didn’t say much about his son, just about you. His little grandson, if you’ll remember. I should have put two and two together to realize that you couldn’t have been a little kid. But he was just always so glad that he had you.”
Hank’s black/brown eyes held a wealth of emotion. “He said that?”
“Of course he did. He loved you very much.”
Hank nodded and looked down at his lunch. “I know he did.”
Hank’s comment proved to be an effective conversation ender. Not knowing what else to say or do, Maddie leaned over and fussed at Beamer for making such a mess of her lunch. She then picked out the remaining chicken in her own sandwich and hand-fed it to the golden retriever.
“You got over your fear of dogs pretty quick.”
Maddie straightened up, wiping her hand on a napkin and glancing Hank’s way. She then focused on the dog, who now stared at Hank, as if to say, “What’s to fear?” “She didn’t give me a chance to be afraid, if you’ll remember. She attacked me every time she saw me.”
Hank nodded, putting his leg down and standing up to stretch. The man was poetic symmetry. Maddie watched his every move with hungry delight. “I can understand that urge,” Hank quipped, grinning brightly, catching her staring. “I’ve had the urge a time or two myself where you’re concerned.”
With awareness flaring to a flame deep down inside her, Maddie patted the dog’s head and very primly said, “Well, we’re all past that now.”
“No we’re not. Not all of us.” Hank’s gleaming eyes and arched eyebrows gave him the rakish appearance of a swashbuckling pirate. All he needed was a knife held between his teeth.
Totally embarrassed and excited by his innuendo, Maddie looked away, grinning. Hank came over to sit by her. Right next to her. Pressed up against her. He put his arm around her shoulders and crossed his legs, an ankle atop his opposite knee. “Ah, come on, Maddie, don’t get shy on me. Where’s that hip-swaying seductress from a few hours ago? I liked her.”
“She went to the beach.” It was the only ad-lib comment Maddie could come up with. Afraid she’d succumb to a fit of girlish giggles, she crossed her arms defensively and refused to look at Hank. All the while she felt naked somehow, even in her shorts and top. Being this close to Hank and with him coming on to her … God, it felt good. And scary.
“The beach, huh? Then that’s where I want to go next. As soon as we finish our lunch.”
As if those were code words for doggie scraps, Beamer immediately padded over to the other side of the gazebo and sniffed at Hank’s sandwich. She licked it mightily and then threw him a can-I-have-it look over her shaggy, golden-furred shoulder. “Yeah, you can have it,” Hank told her. “You’ve already had your dog lips all over it. Go ahead. Eat it.”
She did.
“That dog is going to weigh three hundred pounds, Hank.”
“Naw. We’ll let her run it off at the beach.” He got up and took Maddie’s hand, pulling her to her feet. He didn’t immediately release her hand, but stood there, only inches from her, staring at her mouth. Maddie forgot how to breathe. Then Hank roused himself. “Come on. We’ll go get my Navigator. It’s parked over by your shop. We’ll sneak around so my mother and Celeste don’t see us and put us to work. Then we’ll ride out to the cottages. I’ll show you what I’ve already done to that old place since yesterday. I think you’ll be impressed.”
As they gathered up their trash, leashed Beamer, and exited the gazebo, Maddie wished she could tell Hank she was already impressed. Impressed with the way he looked in his jeans and knit shirt. Impressed with his muscled physique. Impressed with how he cared about his mother even when she was being her most difficult. Impressed with how friendly and down-to-earth he’d been this morning with her friends and neighbors, all of whom were in awe of him. As if he were their crown prince come down to walk among the commoners.
But most of all, she was impressed with the way he made her tingle all over. With the way he made her laugh and smile and even cry sometimes. And the way he held her. The way he kissed her. The way he made her nerve endings dance with joy and anticipation. But more than any of that, she was mostly impressed with how much he made her want him. Just by being himself. She hadn’t thought that after the jerk doctor, Stanton Fairchild, she could ever trust again, that she would even try again.
As they walked toward the boardwalk and the beach beyond it, passing the sailmaker shop, the candy store, and the Laundromat, Maddie looked up at Hank’s striking profile. So classic were his features that she could see him as the bust of a conquering hero. She sighed to herself. Did she dare even try with him? He was wonderful in every way. That was true. And he wanted her. That was obvious. But did it go beyond that? Was she more than a summer romance to him? A fling? Someone with whom he could while away his enforced hours here and then forget when he returned to his real life and his fast set?
Maddie hated her troubled thoughts on this bright and heretofore lighthearted day. She didn’t like these doubts. Hated them. They were like storm clouds threatening a picnic. Yet she knew they were based on a self-preservation instinct. The truth was, she just didn’t think she could survive being used and tossed aside. Not again. And the heck of it was she had no reason—based on his behavior alone and not factoring in the will thing—to think Hank would do such a thing. But she’d been fooled before. All the way to the altar, in fact. And she wasn’t about to let that happen again.
* * *
“So. What do you think? Just like home, right? I covered all the walls with this wallpaper that was already tacky on the back. Well, it’s tacky on the front, too. I mean Conestoga wagons and westward ho? Please. But it was the only kind they had enough of at the hardware store.”
“And that didn’t tell you anything, Hank? But … wow. It’s … nice. Great buffaloes. And are those Indians behind the rocks?”
“I think so. They’re too small for me to be sure. I was thinking of getting the crew out here from This Old House to film my improvements. You know, before and after.”
“Good idea. They should jump right on this.”
She was so damned droll. Despite being excited and energized by her absolute femaleness, Hank had all he could do not to laugh. Not at her, but at her reaction. She had her hands planted at her waist and was valiantly looking around, serious and round-eyed. Hank raked his gaze over her, working his way up from her long and slim yet well-muscled legs, her gently rounded hips and accentuated waist, past the swell of her breasts, and up to her face. Her delicately boned features were frozen. She was horrified, and rightly so.
Hank knew his improvements, to use the term loosely, were awful. He’d never worked with his hands before. The wallpaper was lapped over in places, stuck together in folds in others, and some didn’t line up exactly right, which made for some fantastic half-wagon/half-buffalo creatures. And one piece got stuck to the floor and there it still resided, as evidenced by Beamer’s sniffing investigation of it. Hank bit back a guffaw at the dog’s equally puzzled expression that innocently mimicked Maddie’s. He made up his mind that if Maddie was going to give in to that mutant nice gene of hers and not tell him what she really thought, then he wasn’t going to let her off the hook, either.
“And look over here,” he said, directing her attention over to the corner of the one-room cottage that served as the living room. “I got some books at the secondhand store run by that small church with the tall steeple. Those are some nice ladies there. One of them gave me a prune Danish ring she’d made.” The word “prune” smacked at Hank’s polite sensibilities. “Not that I needed prunes,” he added.
“Oh God, Hank.” Maddie hurried to him and gripped his forearm. Her hand on his skin felt warm and firm. But concern edged her expression and her voice. “Hank, the church’s secondhand store? Oh, honey. Prune Danish? It wasn’t Mrs. Hardy, was it? The woman whose husband owns these cottages? Tell me it wasn’t Mrs. Hardy and that you didn’t eat any of it. When did you get the Danish? When? Think, Hank.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“It’s big, Hank. Big. Think.” She stepped back, crossing her arms under her breasts and eyeing him as if he had about three hours to live.
“Okay, I am.” Concerned now, he cast about in his mind for the details. “Yeah, I went Saturday. I think. Yes. Saturday. And I don’t know the lady’s name. They weren’t wearing nametags. But why? What’s the problem?”
Maddie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Whew. You’re probably okay then, since this is Monday. And it probably wasn’t Mrs. Hardy. The big deal, Hank, is Mrs. Hardy, God love her, loves to cook and feed everyone. And every one of us, to a person, has had his or her stomach pumped as a result.”
“Jesus.”
“I remember invoking His name, yes.”
“What does Mrs. Hardy do that makes everyone so sick?”
“We don’t know. We’ve thought of sending a sample to a lab somewhere to have it analyzed. But Mr. Canardy—he’s our mailman—says we can’t ship hazardous materials like that through the mail.”
“Damn. Is she like those two little old ladies who poisoned their husbands?”
“We don’t know they poisoned their husbands,” Maddie chastised in a Sunday-school-teacher voice. “It’s just that Mrs. Hardy is sweet and well-meaning, but she can’t do much. It’s a physical thing. So she cooks and gives it away and likes to feel needed.”
Hank was appalled. “But if she’s killing everybody—”
“No one has actually died.” That defensive voice was back.
“But if she’s making people sick, why would they sell her baked goods in the church store, for crying out loud?”
Maddie frowned at him as if he were simple. “Well, we wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
That silenced him. He stared without blinking at Maddie. “It’s that mutant nice gene, isn’t it?”
She grinned somewhat sickly. “Afraid so. It’s in the water.”
“Well, thank God I’ve been drinking the bottled stuff.”
Maddie eyed him about like a homicide detective would a suspect. “Did you eat the prune Danish, Hank?”
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t like pastry like that. But I just took it and then tossed it away out here.”
“So you were being nice.”
“I was not. You take that back.”
“You were being nice. You didn’t want to hurt her feelings. And I will not take it back.”
Hank rubbed at his jaw and chin. “This is not good. I cannot turn up nice in six weeks. That would scare everyone at Madison and Madison. Our stock would surely drop.”
Maddie was suddenly quiet and seemed to draw away from him, even though she hadn’t moved. Hank looked into her eyes. “What?”
She roused herself, managing a smile that he could tell was forced. “Nothing. Why?”
“No, it’s something. I said something about Madison and Madison, and you—Oh. I think I get it.”
“You do? What do you think you got?”
“Six weeks. I’ll be going back to New York. I won’t be here anymore. And my little summer adventure will be over.”
A fleeting look of pain crossed her face. “Your little summer adventure? Is that how you think of this?”
Too late Hank realized that somehow he’d stepped out onto a treacherous ice floe, not that there was any other kind. “Well, no. Not really. I was just being flippant. I meant it’s easy being here. Easier than I thought. I thought I’d hate it. In fact, I was sure I would. But I don’t.”
She warmed a bit, relaxing her stance. “Really? You don’t? Why not?”
Hank gestured an I-don’t-know. “The town, I guess. It’s nice here. The people are great. Friendly. Welcoming. I can see what my grandfather liked about the place.”
“That’s a good sign.” Maddie’s smile could only be called hopeful. “So we’re beginning to grow on you?”
Hank crossed his arms over his chest. “Like a fungus.”
“Lovely. I mean seriously: you like it here?”
“Yes. Seriously. This place could catch on and take off. Become a major upscale vacation destination.”
Maddie drooped a bit. “Oh. You’re talking about commercial viability. We’d hate that here, you know. It would ruin what makes Hanscomb Harbor so special.”
“Or maybe it could only enhance it, Maddie. Like up in Newport.”
She shrugged, clearly unconvinced. “I suppose that’s possible. Still, I’d hate to see that happen. Hanscomb Harbor is a port, a harbor, a refuge, in more than one sense. And for more than a few people. We wouldn’t like to see it overrun and ruined.”
“Neither would I. And just so you know, I have no plans along those lines. And no desire to change even one thing here.” Most of all, you. Hank heard himself talking advertising, but knew this wasn’t at all where Maddie was coming from. She meant, was she the attraction here for him? Hell, yes, was the answer to that. Hank’s pulse rate increased as awareness, never far below the surface where she was concerned, now flared in him, tightening his muscles. Tell her, his conscience urged. Hank exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his desire.
Certain that his awareness of her radiated from his gaze, he held her blue-eyed attention—and took the plunge. “Maddie, you have to know that it’s you keeping me here.” He saw her eyes widen. “You have to know that the only reason I haven’t contested my grandfather’s will—and I could do so successfully—is because of you, so I can have an ironclad reason to be around you.” She looked overwhelmed now. Hank didn’t know what to do except keep talking. “I’m really looking forward to these next six weeks, Maddie. I’ve never felt this way before. Never. It’s good. A good feeling. I have you to thank for that.” Hank thought about that. “And my grandfather. It’s going to be a great six weeks, me and you together.”
Maddie didn’t say anything. She just stood there. Hank searched her expression but saw nothing encouraging. Oh, man, I’ve gone too fast. Then he saw that tears stood in her eyes. Even Beamer knew something was up. The golden retriever gave up her investigation of the trash and padded over to nuzzle her nose under Maddie’s hand. Maddie absently fondled the dog’s silky ears and stared at Hank. He put a hand out to her. “Maddie? Are you all right?”
She shook her head. “No. I have to go, Hank. I’m sorry, but I just have to go. I don’t feel well. Will you take me home, please?”