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“Ya cannot spend your whole life running, Willow,” Duncan said softly. “You’re smart enough to know that no matter how fast ya are, it’s only an illusion of safety. Love comes unbidden, lass, and is as unstoppable as the sunrise.” Willow pulled free, returning her gaze to the fire. “You don’t think you’re a bit arrogant to assume I love you?” she asked without accusation. “Nay,” he said, his chest rumbling in amusement. “You’re the arrogant one, if ya think to continue denying your feelings.” He lifted her chin again, gave her a quick kiss on the lips, then tucked her head against him with a deep sigh. “I’ve the patience to out-wait ya, Willow, and the means to eventually capture and keep ya.” She popped her head up and frowned at him. “What means?” “My body, of course,” he said, arching one brow. “Ya can’t seem to get enough of it.”
Acknowledgments I would like to thank Dr. Robert Bayer, Professor of Animal and Veterinary Sciences, and Director of the Lobster Institute at the University of Maine, for sharing with me his knowledge of lobster and fishermen, and the chemicals that can threaten them both. Dr. Bayer and his colleagues do great work at the Lobster Institute, and are invaluable to those making their living from the sea, as well as those who enjoy feasting on its bounty. The Institute’s mission is as simple as it is far-reaching: The Lobster Institute, with guidance and involvement from fishermen and all constituents within the lobster industry, and with both a community and global perspective, conducts and provides for research and educational outreach focused on protecting, conserving, and enhancing lobsters and lobstering as an industry and as a way of life. Check out their website to see just a few of the reasons why I love living here in Maine: www.lobsterinstitute.org.
Chapter One “I can’t decide if you’re the most patient man I know or the dumbest.” Duncan Ross set his drink down on the bar and followed Keenan Oakes’s gaze to the booth in the back corner of the pub. “I prefer cunning to patient,” he said as they watched the two chatting women. “Patience implies that I’m waiting for something to happen, whereas cunning denotes a plan.” Kee turned narrowed eyes on Duncan. “And does this plan involve any actual dating, or are you saving all of your energy for the honeymoon?” Duncan shot him a grin, picked up his drink, and looked back at the booth over the rim of his glass as he took a sip. Willow Foster and Rachel Oakes were both hunched forward, whispering to each other across the wide oak table. Rachel suddenly sat back in her seat with a laugh, and Willow just as suddenly leaned away, folded her arms under her breasts, and snorted loudly enough to be heard over the hum of the crowded pub. Duncan quietly chuckled. “It’s going to be one hell of a hon
Chapter One
Chapter Two W ith the patience of a predator waiting for supper, Duncan leaned against the candy red SUV in the dimly lit parking lot, his arms folded over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles in a pose that might appear almost languid to anyone who didn’t know him. He was soon rewarded by the sight of Willow climbing out the restroom window of his pub; one shapely jeans-clad leg appearing first, followed by a deliciously firm little butt, followed by another leg, until she was hanging suspended over the sill. Her sweater caught on a protruding nail as her waving feet searched for a toehold, and she suddenly tumbled down over the stack of firewood with a curse loud enough to be heard all the way across the parking lot. Despite his dark mood, Duncan couldn’t stifle a smile. It was a wonder she could even walk after putting first one foot in her mouth by spilling Rachel’s secret, then cramming in her other foot when she’d blurted out that she wouldn’t be home until late tomorrow
Chapter Two
Chapter Three W illow sat on a large box under the wheelhouse of The Corncobb Lady, hugging her knees to her chest as she watched the spray of frothing water disappear into the darkness behind. “Are you warm enough?” Ray shouted over the roar of the diesel engine, slipping out of his heavy canvas jacket and tossing it to her before she could answer. “You’ll freeze.” “Naw. I’m used to being damp and cold,” he said, returning his attention to the dark sea ahead. Once they’d idled out of the shore-hugging fog, about twenty minutes ago, Ray had given the powerful boat full throttle. Willow wasn’t worried they’d run into anything; she’d made enough trips in speeding boats in high school to know that visibility was actually quite good on the ocean at night. She was only mad at herself for not remembering how raw it could get on the open water. Unlike kayaking, where one worked up a sweat, cruising the Gulf of Maine at twenty-five knots in June was damn cold. Willow slipped into Ray’s jacket,
Chapter Three
Chapter Four T he stars were just beginning to fade with the first hint of dawn when they idled into Trunk Harbor. Willow could see a few fishermen already had their boats tied to the dock and were loading them with bait, traps, and spools of thick rope. Ray had found her a smelly old cap in his toolbox, and Willow twined her hair in a knot, crammed the cap on her head, and turned up the collar of Ray’s coat as they edged against the far side of the pier. “Don’t talk to anyone when we head to your truck,” Ray said, setting the covered plastic bin on the pier. “And wait until you get to Puffin Harbor before you stop to buy ice.” Willow understood he didn’t want her seen near Trunk Harbor, which was twelve miles east of Puffin Harbor, and that she needed to get the lobsters on ice if she wanted them to be alive when they reached the lab. She scrambled onto the dock, her hand covering her face at her collar, and fell into step beside Ray as he strode down the dimly lit pier. They walked i
Chapter Four
Chapter Five I t was after midnight when Willow finally stepped through the door of her apartment in Augusta, and lacking even the energy to hang up her jacket, she let it slide to the floor when she set down her briefcase and kicked off her shoes. She padded through the living room without bothering to turn on the lights, headed directly to the fridge in her tiny kitchen, and grabbed an already opened bottle of wine. She wiggled the cork free and drank straight from the bottle only to snort at the realization that she didn’t want wine, she wanted a large glass of thirty-year-old Scotch. It was all Duncan’s fault, damn him. She had awakened in The Rosach Pub with an acute awareness that the body beneath hers was fully aroused. Duncan’s hand had been stroking her backside, his other hand toying with her hair, and the heat radiating from him could have powered Puffin Harbor. There’d been a controlled strength in his touch, an almost palpable restraint, as if he’d been trying not to wake
Chapter Five
Chapter Six I t was after ten at night when Duncan dragged himself up his porch stairs; the only thing keeping him moving forward was the thought of spending the next hour in a hot sauna and then falling into a soft bed. Cold-water diving was hard on a man’s body, and seeing all those dead lobsters and crabs littering the ocean floor around Thunder Island was just as hard on a man’s heart. “I knew when I was building that sauna it was the best part of your remodel,” Luke said as he plodded up the stairs beside Duncan. “The Swedes certainly know how to deal with bone-chilling cold.” Duncan unlocked the kitchen door and stepped aside for Luke to go in first. “I noticed ya built it bigger than the blueprints called for,” Duncan said. “Perhaps on the misguided notion that I share my toys?” “I was still recuperating from my nearly fatal swim in the Gulf of Maine,” Luke said without apology. “I swear that kind of cold stays with a man for months. I was only planning ahead for days like today
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven “Y a slipped out of bed and snuck off without waking me.” Willow smiled across her desk at Duncan, painfully aware that they were not alone. Karen stood hovering in the doorway of the outer office, seemingly uncertain whether to call Security or simply continue to stare at the handsome giant scowling at her boss. “I did not slip out of bed, I was crowded out,” Willow whispered through her tight smile. “And I didn’t wake you for fear of my life.” “Excuse me?” Willow laid down her pen, folded her hands together, and kicked up her smile several notches. “I wasn’t about to roust a sleeping tiger. I am well aware they wake up grumpy.” “A tiger?” he repeated, puffing out his chest. Willow lifted one brow. “You certainly sounded like one, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.” She leaned to her left to see past him. “It’s okay, Karen. Everything’s under control.” “Your, ah, nine o’clock is here,” Karen said, forcibly tearing her wide-eyed gaze from Duncan to look at Willow. “Do
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight T he last time Willow had been this distracted had been in her first year of law school, though she couldn’t remember feeling quite this restless. The image of Duncan Ross wouldn’t stop popping into her head, making it difficult to concentrate on the well-water tests she was supposed to be analyzing. But instead of comparing road salt levels that had grown increasingly higher this past year, she kept seeing Duncan sprawled across her bed two mornings ago, his arms thrown wide and his powerfully muscled body tempting her to phone in sick and crawl back into bed with him. She kept seeing his usually amused, vibrant green eyes pinning her in place, just daring her to kiss him senseless. Or she would picture him leaning against his car in the Trunk Harbor parking lot Saturday morning, waiting for her to come back from the sea and knowing he’d spent the night worrying about her. This had to stop. She couldn’t let Duncan get under her skin so deeply that her heart became engage
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine W illow automatically turned left at the light in Ellsworth, following Route 1 farther down east toward Puffin Harbor. While staying focused on driving through the still raging storm, she replayed the more interesting parts of her conversation with Jane Huntley. When she had called Jane this morning, they had agreed to meet at Pat’s Pizza in Orono rather than at the lab. And while eating pizza and sharing a few beers, Jane had given Willow instructions on how to take the water samples and use the remote underwater camera she was lending her. They had also caught up on their friendship, and time had flown by faster than Willow realized. Between the two beers she’d had during the four-hour visit, and the droning, rhythmic swipes of the wiper blades trying to keep her windshield clear, Willow felt the fatigue of her work-packed week finally catching up with her. Her dashboard clock read seven thirty, and with the storm firmly entrenched overhead, it was already starting to ge
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten W ith her head tucked in the crook of Duncan’s shoulder and her arm lying across his broad chest, Willow smiled into the darkness as she remembered falling asleep with a deep sense of contentment. Duncan had brought her home last night, carefully installed her in his bed, and then patiently stood back while a parade of people had come to see for themselves that she had survived the crash whole and relatively hearty. The visitations had started with Rachel, Kee, Mikaela, and Mickey. Mikaela had climbed up on the bed, her baby blue eyes fraught with concern, and proceeded to take stock of Willow’s every cut and bruise and bandage. The seven-year-old had then read Willow a bedtime story from one of the books she’d brought with her, finishing by announcing that Mickey was so worried about Willow that he wanted to spend the night. Mickey was now snuggled against Willow’s back with his nose resting on her thigh, making Willow feel like a well-guarded sandwich. Luke had also come
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven W illow woke up with a muttered curse and swatted at whatever was shaking her, finally opening her eyes when she heard Duncan chuckle. “Hush, now. I need ya to be quiet,” he said, gently rolling her onto her back and sitting her up. “I don’t want to wake the others.” Willow blinked at him in the soft light coming from the master bath doorway. “What time is it?” she asked, pushing the hair off her face, nearly poking herself in the eye because she forgot her hand was bandaged. She glanced at the nightstand. “Four?” she said, turning to scowl at Duncan. “You got me up in the middle of the night to give me a pill?” “Are ya always this cranky when ya wake up?” Duncan asked with another chuckle, handing her not a pain pill, but a pair of her jeans, a T-shirt, and one of her sweaters. “Get dressed. I want to catch the outgoing tide.” Willow came completely awake, just noticing Duncan was fully dressed, including his jacket. “We’re leaving? Right now? Are Jane and Jason awake?”
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve S he was suddenly frightened. Not shy. Not exactly nervous. Just suddenly scared to take off her clothes, crawl under the covers, and spend the rest of the morning being the sole focus of Duncan’s attention. Something had changed between them. If she had to guess, Willow would say it had happened the night of her accident. When Duncan had walked into that hospital exam room and silently stood there staring at her, Willow had realized she no longer felt hunted—she’d felt…well, she had felt loved. Not that Duncan had kept his feelings for her a secret, but those feelings had always been tempered by the safety of lust. Lust was a much more definable emotion, and definitely more manageable. But for the last two days, Willow had been aware of an underlying tension between them. She’d sensed a new determination on Duncan’s part that she stop running long enough to take him seriously. He wanted her to love him completely, to take that frightening leap of faith into his arms. So
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen “I t’s nice to see that some things never change.” Willow mimicked Jane’s stance, her feet spread and her hands on her hips, as they both stared down at the old quarry pond. “Other than that tidal line showing, this place is exactly the same,” Willow agreed. “The water is awful muddy, though. Do you suppose the storm riled it up?” can’t Jane lifted her hands in question. “I can’t imagine why, since it’s protected in here, unless more than just a crack in the granite is letting the ocean in. Maybe there’s actually a cave. That would be enough to churn up the bottom and make it this murky.” “But we covered every inch of this island in high school and never came across any caves. They don’t just suddenly appear,” Willow said, squinting through the sunlight at her friend. “They’re either dug by man or formed by eons-old eruptions, aren’t they?” Jane slowly moved along the edge of the twenty-foot cliff while looking down the sheer wall of the quarry. “After you told me abou
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen W illow sat quietly at the small table in the belly of the Seven-to-Two Odds and watched as Jane tried to separate the wet bill of lading from its plastic sleeve. “So where’d the name Seven-to-Two-Odds come from?” Jane asked as she used the tweezers to slowly peel back the sleeve without damaging the fragile paper inside. Willow leaned closer, watching Jane’s meticulous progress. “Rachel and Kee, Duncan, Jason, Matt, Peter, and Luke are the seven,” she explained. “And Mikaela and Nick are the two. The schooner used to be called the Six-to-One Odds before Rae and Nick came along and Kee had to rename her.” “So who’s winning?” Jane asked, darting Willow a quick grin before returning to her task. “The kids,” Willow said with a laugh just as the paper finally came free. “It’s not a shipping label,” Jane said, using the tweezers to carefully unfold the soaked paper. “It’s a warning insert.” They suddenly both had to grab the edge of the table to steady themselves when the s
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen T he men seemed to think it was important they take the Seven-to-Two Odds for another run out on the gulf before settling down to their day’s work. Apparently, Jason had decided—likely sometime during the long night alone in his bed—that he would fair better by buttering Jane up, since riling her didn’t seem to be working for him. He began by trying to impress her, not with his skill as a sailor, but with his willingness to let her think she was in charge. Jane certainly wasn’t shy about taking command, keeping both Duncan and Jason running to hoist sails and then scrambling to reset them whenever she changed tack. Poor Ahab would likely have had a cursing fit if he had seen his beloved schooner being put through her paces. Either that, or he’d have asked Jane to marry him. It was noon before they moored off Thunder Island again and went ashore to study the tarp and wood and plastic they’d found in the quarry and had stowed on the island last night. But they weren’t the
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen T hey pulled into an eerily silent harbor, idling past mostly empty moorings that gave testament to the fact that just about every seaworthy boat was out searching for Gramps. Willow knew from past experience that the Fox home, which sat just up Main Street, was the center of an age-old vigil where the women were gathered around Mildred Fox to wait for word on her husband. Willow could even picture the scene in vivid detail, because she had been part of such a vigil during her sophomore year of high school. She had sat all night and into the next morning with Bradley Grant’s mother, and been there when the Coast Guard and the harbormaster had come in and told Mrs. Grant they’d found her husband’s body about two hundred yards from his idling boat. And then they’d explained what they thought had happened, and that her son had likely been pulled under in five hundred feet of water. In time, they’d told her, the sea might give Bradley up, but they could only offer sincere c
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen I t was a somber celebration at The Rosach that evening, considering the varied moods of those in attendance. Only Mabel was oblivious to the underlying currents running through the private room on the second floor of Duncan’s pub. Willow’s landlady was instead involved with eating the famous Rosach lobster roll and discovering that she also had a taste for fine Scotch. Margaret Ross was still recovering from this afternoon’s girl chat in Duncan’s kitchen, but at least the woman was speaking to her daughter again—albeit stiffly—now that Molly had admitted Ben Zane was nothing more than her attempt to be taken seriously. Mother and daughter were huddled next to the crackling hearth that was an exact replica of the one downstairs. The men—Duncan, Kee, Luke, Jason, Camden, and Ahab—were sitting at one end of the long trestle table that dominated the banquet room, drinking Scotch and talking about only God knew what. Willow thought they might be discussing the pesticide a
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen “H e doesn’t kiss like a caveman,” Jane whispered. Willow turned from staring out the window at the woods where Duncan and Jason had disappeared thirty minutes ago, and looked at her friend. “Duncan kissed you?” Jane looked momentarily startled, then snorted and shook her head. “Not Duncan. Jason,” she whispered, fidgeting with the key chain dangling from the ignition of Luke’s truck. “On the Seven-to-Two Odds, right after you and Duncan left, and Ahab got done bawling us out for breaking that pulley. I was down below, getting our gear, when Jason came down and…and kissed me.” Willow blinked at her friend in amazement. “Are you blushing?” she asked, squinting through the moonlit cab of the truck. Who the hell had ever heard of breaking and entering on a moonlit night? “Jane Huntley is blushing like a schoolgirl because a guy kissed her?” Jane lifted her chin. “It’s not just the fact that he kissed me, but how he kissed me. And…and what he said afterward.” Willow didn’t
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen T hey endured a bruising ride in the back of a cargo truck, were dragged onto a lobster boat at an isolated dock down the coast, and sped through the Gulf of Maine until they met up with a fishing trawler in the middle of nowhere and were shoved down into its stinking hold. The four of them had had their pockets emptied back at the office, and had been tied up like Christmas turkeys readied for roasting. Jason had a swollen cheek and a black eye from when he’d gone after the guy called Mike, when Mike had made Jane’s knots too tight and she had hissed in pain. Other than that, both Jason and Duncan were so damnably calm, it was starting to grate on Willow’s nerves. They couldn’t possibly believe they wouldn’t be killed, despite Edward’s repeated assurances. The only probable motive for going through so much trouble to take them so far out to sea was so they could be dumped overboard and their bodies never found. Just like Gramps. Graham probably figured it had worked o
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty B y the time they pulled into Trunk Harbor, it looked like the entire town and most of Puffin Harbor was standing on the pier and overflowing into the parking lot. There were lights flashing, and Willow realized a fire truck and an ambulance were standing by as well as a sheriff’s car and a state police cruiser. She also would have bet there was a state detective’s car hidden someplace in the crowd. Willow could almost picture what had happened the moment Mildred Fox had gotten off the radio with her husband. Everyone who’d been sitting at the house with her would have gotten on their cell phones and into their cars and spread the joyous news. Trunk Harbor was welcoming back one of its own they’d prematurely given up for dead. It wasn’t very often the sea gave back a soul, alive and well, that had been missing for three days. Though obviously not surprised, having witnessed a few homecomings over the years, Gramps was looking a bit overwhelmed by it all. Frank was having
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one T wo weeks can seem like forever if a person is waiting for their exciting and wonderful new life to begin. Then again, two weeks can zip by in a blur when a person is busy upsetting everyone else’s lives in the process. Willow was experiencing both quirks of time as she cleaned up the remnants of her old life and painstakingly created her new one. And yes, she was definitely upsetting a few people. She started with Edward Simmons and Brent Graham. As she had suspected, Edward folded like a cheap suit when faced with a list of crimes that stretched from fraud to kidnapping. He quickly turned state’s evidence and was instrumental not only in putting Brent Graham in prison for a very long time, but in clearing up Willow’s little matter of being wrongly accused of accepting a payoff for throwing a case. Willow’s charges were dropped, Edward’s charges were reduced considerably, and Brent Graham would likely be celebrating his seventieth birthday behind bars. Any leftover
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two W illow did not reclaim her Crane Island Kayak Race title, but she did have a respectable sixth-place showing in a field of seven. The number seven guy, though, had been seventy-three years old, and Willow had been beat by three women in their fifties and a fourteen-year-old boy. Jane did indeed claim first place, but then, she’d been white-water kayaking all spring, and had the muscles to prove it. Willow just knew she was going to pay for today’s herculean effort for at least the next week. Every muscle in her body ached, but it was nothing compared to what she knew she’d feel tomorrow morning when she tried to get out of bed. She was sleeping in her old room at Rachel and Kee’s house, because Duncan just couldn’t bring himself to let her sleep with him—not with his mother still in residence. Willow had told him they were going to have to practice doing it quietly some more, but she admired his respect for his mother’s sensibilities. Molly, however, didn’t seem as
Chapter Twenty-two
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