Читать книгу Inner Harbor - Lois Richer - Страница 11

“You have to marry me!”

Several minutes elapsed while the world regained its balance. Russ watched Annie Simmons’s face darken, blue eyes frost over. He winced at the smothered fury in her voice, wondering why the possibility she’d refuse had never occurred to him. Gramps had given the impression he’d spoken with her, but if not—

“I don’t have to do anything.” Annie Simmons shook her head, but her stare never left his face. “You said your grandfather was leaving you something, didn’t you? I didn’t mishear that part?”

“You heard correctly, Annie. He left me a substantial amount of money so I could move up my plans to expand my business. I’d been telling him about some new equipment and—never mind.” He looked away from that stare, felt slightly abashed at his temerity in blurting it all out. He should have found an easier way. But what easier way was there to explain Gramps?

“But—” She stopped. Her lips worked, but no sound emerged.

“Trust me, I know how you feel. I felt the same way when I found out his conditions—stunned. But it’s true. My mother is an excellent lawyer. She inherited his law firm and his house. She assures me it’s all legal. My grandfather specifically worded his last wishes—in order to collect my inheritance I have to marry you within six months of his death.”

He saw her swallow, hesitate, look away, then back at him.

“No offense, but is there a history of mental illness in your family?” Annie’s fingers folded and refolded in her lap.

Nervous energy, he decided, though she didn’t sound as surprised as he’d expected. Why was that? What was she hiding?

“Not that I know of.” He grinned. “Though you might think so if you’d known my grandfather. Normal wasn’t in his vocabulary.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.” Her blue gaze remained wide and fixed—on him.

Russ took another sip of coffee, sorting through his words carefully.

“Grandad was a character.” He stared into the black brew, remembering the old man’s penchant for running things. Then he chuckled. “But no one ever suggested Wharton Willoughby didn’t have what it took in the courtroom.”

“There’s something you should know.”

He watched Annie swallow, take a deep breath.

“Your grandfather was my mother’s lawyer,” she whispered.

Russ Mitchard met her frown with a shrug. He hadn’t known that, but then there was a lot about his grandfather he was just beginning to uncover. “I didn’t realize he actually knew you.” His brain began processing. “Though if he did, that explains his insistence on you as the chosen one.”

“But—” She frowned at him, her eyes intently scrutinizing his features. “So he was your grandfather. Hmm.”

She was holding back. Russ watched her puzzle something out in her mind and wondered what was going on.

“My mother’s papa,” he confirmed with a nod. “Died a little before Thanksgiving. If you met him, you must understand about the will. Eccentric was his middle name.”

“He wasn’t eccentric when I knew him. He was kind and gentle, comforting. A father figure who also happened to be my mother’s lawyer.”

He saw genuine tenderness fill her eyes.

“He helped me settle her estate. He’s the one who suggested I use the money she left me to buy this place. He helped me negotiate the sale, then came back to check on my renovations several times. But I hadn’t seen him since winter arrived.”

“He didn’t like snow very much. He caught pneumonia before he died.”

She glanced at him, chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then blurted out the duty phrase he’d heard so often.

“I’m sorry. I would have gone to the funeral if I’d known. But with this place, and Drew to think of, I wasn’t paying much attention to the news.”

“I understand.” Russ could see how tightly she controlled the words. She was definitely hiding something. His senses perked up.

“Why me, do you think?” Annie faltered over that question as if she weren’t sure how he’d take it.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he confessed, watching the swirl of conflicting emotions darken her eyes. Should he tell her? “My hunch is that, while he was ill, he dreamed the whole thing up.”

“Was he ill a long time?” she whispered.

“Several weeks. He couldn’t shake that cold.” Russ closed his eyes, thought it out. “My guess is he concocted one of his ideas, then purposely brought us together. He certainly knew I was doing studies on the area as a potential business site. In fact, he’s the one who originally pointed it out as a possible location, then told me not to bother. He knew very well how much I’d loved my time here as a child.”

She blinked innocently, but Russ saw a shadow flicker through her eyes. Something about this whole thing bothered him. Annie Simmons didn’t seem nearly as flabbergasted by his proposal as he’d expected.

“If I knew Gramps, and I did, he manipulated my whole situation for his personal convenience. He’d been after me to move closer to home for ages.” More flickers. Russ frowned.

“Manipulated? He didn’t seem conniving to me. Just very kind.” She avoided his stare, studied her fingers.

“Gramps was kind. He was also very big on marriage. Maybe because his own was so great.” He paused, then decided to tell the whole story. “He and my grandmother were married after her parents died. It was a marriage of convenience that provided a home for her baby sister and gave him the society wife he wanted. But they fell in love, and everything worked out for them. They had a great marriage, the envy of everyone who saw them together. I guess that’s why he thought it would work if he forced the two of us together.”

If Russ closed his eyes, he could see his grandparents, hands clasped, eyes shining with a rich, deep joy he’d never known. Maybe if he could feel that kind of emotion, be so confident that nothing he did would disappoint, he would be more interested in the institution of marriage.

But Russ was smart enough to know he was not his grandfather. Nor his father. When people depended on him, they were disillusioned. Invariably. He didn’t do it deliberately. Responsibility just didn’t work with him. Whether it stemmed from selfishness, or from years of being expected to follow in the family career path, he’d never managed to be the man they wanted, had never come close to stepping up to the plate and handling the responsibility they wanted to give him.

“Now that you mention it, I do remember he once said he missed her presence more than anything else he’d ever known, that she’d gone from being a stranger to becoming a part of his heart. The way he talked about her—it was so sweet.”

She drifted away on some memory Russ couldn’t share. Clearly Annie Simmons knew his grandfather well. But how—

“So your grandfather named you as his heir?”

Nodding, Russ steeled himself to face her. “One of them.”

The next part would be touchy. There was no easy way to say it without sounding crass and greedy, but neither was he quite ready to divulge his true reasons behind this strange proposal.

“His plan goes like this. We marry, and I collect my inheritance. I get my business on a solid footing, charm the tourists with my creations and start work on some bigger projects I’ve been itching to try, once I buy some more equipment. It’s actually quite simple.”

Simple? It was a nightmare, one Russ would have avoided like the plague if he hadn’t allowed himself to be persuaded by the cajoling words in that letter Gramps had left behind. He’d only come here, asked her to do this, out of respect for the old man and because he wanted to see what Annie Simmons had that had bowled over his crusty old grandfather so much that he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a marriage.

Gramps’s opinions on marriage were no secret to him. It made a man stronger, grounded him, gave him purpose and a helpmate to lean on when things got tough. He remembered their last conversation vividly. The right woman would help Russ realize his dreams. Well, Russ was realizing his dreams just fine—gaining increasing fame with his work, landing contracts, building a base of studio buyers.

Gramps knew Russ had committed every dime he could spare to open that shop—and that wasn’t counting the loans he’d taken to move everything to this tourist Mecca. His studies had shown the potential here, the support for craftsmen willing to work hard and build their business. Russ desperately wanted to prove himself, but he was at the sink-or-swim point. If Safe Harbor didn’t work out, he’d have to dip into his savings, and that was a last resort. Gramps had known that, and apparently he’d come up with this solution.

Marriage.

Russ might have walked away without a second thought, dismissed the whole idea as the romantic machinations of a delusional old man if he hadn’t had that last conversation with his grandfather, hadn’t felt the conviction in the old man’s voice that Annie Simmons was his soul mate. Hadn’t listened to his fervent prayer for Russ’s future happiness. Hadn’t received the letter.

Even so, after the funeral, after the will had been read, he’d worked six ways through Sunday, unpacked his law books and plied every legal tactic he could remember to break that will, until finally he’d been forced to admit defeat. The will was unbreakable. Gramps would have it his way or Russ would lose his opportunity and break the trust his grandfather had placed in him. The latter would hurt far more than losing any money.

He looked at Annie. She didn’t speak, didn’t say a word. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else. Russ shifted uncomfortably, tented his hands, then unfolded them and shoved them in his pockets.

“So? What do you think?” he blurted, unable to keep silent a moment longer. He’d never been so uncomfortable in his life. He didn’t want to marry her, knew he couldn’t be what his grandfather had been to Gran. Annie didn’t need her life messed up by him. But Gramps—

“I’m thinking that I need to get away from you.”

“What? Why?” He ordered his mind to pay attention.

“This is a quiet little town, Mr. Mitchard. People don’t walk into my bed-and-breakfast and suggest I marry them so that they can inherit an estate! It just doesn’t happen here.” The speech burst out of her as if it had been prepared some time ago.

“It probably doesn’t happen anywhere else, either,” he admitted dryly. “My grandfather never did anything the ordinary way. He liked to be—original.” Okay, that was a vast understatement of the facts. He tried again.

“The marriage wouldn’t have to be the ordinary kind of marriage, Annie.” He tried to comfort her. “It could be whatever we wanted—a business arrangement between us, if you like. I fully expect to split the inheritance with you, anyway. Gramps would have wanted that.”

“Pay me, you mean? For marrying you?” She was outraged. “No.”

Russ raked one hand through his hair and desperately wished his grandfather were here right now to explain what will-o’-the-wisp dream had engendered this situation in his fertile mind. Gramps knew exactly how little Russ wanted the responsibility for someone else’s happiness—anyone else’s. Apparently Annie felt the same way. He didn’t blame her.

“No, not pay you.” He retracted the words, trying to find new ones as he stared into her angry face. “I just meant that I wouldn’t expect you to disrupt your life for nothing. I know this will inconvenience you.”

“Inconvenience me? Getting married? Oh, perhaps just the teeniest bit, Mr. Mitchard.” She laughed, a sharp, grating sound that told him the state of her nerves. “This whole thing is impossible! He should have known that.”

“Maybe.” Russ reached out a hand to stop her from leaving. “But it’s also reality.” And it got worse. Russ dredged up one last ounce of courage and laid it on the line. “I have to be married to you within the next three months.”

If he had to wait that long, he’d give up. As it was, he’d had to summon every ounce of courage to ask someone he didn’t know to marry him. Only the memory of his grandfather’s whispered words pushed him forward. But Russ kept that knowledge to himself, silently chiding his grandfather for his manipulations. Bad enough Gramps had used him. But Annie? She seemed a sweet, innocent person. Why involve her in this?

“Three months? Three years. The answer is the same. No.” She shook her head, her eyes huge as she leaned away from him, jerking her hand out from under his.

“Annie, I’ve done everything I could think of to find some way around this, but the will stands.”

“I don’t know about the will. I only know I’m not marrying you. I loved and respected your grandfather. I’d like to do as he asked. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to marry you.”

Russ wasn’t crazy about marriage himself, but the way she said that made him feel like a slug. He wasn’t that bad, was he?

“But—”

“Forget it.” She jumped to her feet, grabbed her coffee cup and carried it to the sink. “No. No! No way.”

“I see.” He frowned, tilted back on his chair and studied her, stuffing down his doubts. “What’s the problem? Is it me or just the general idea of marriage that you object to?”

“Both!”

“Ah.” So he didn’t appeal to her. Well, that was humbling, but probably good. Romance complicated things, and Russ had enough complications in his life. She was pretty and graceful and efficient, but he’d never intended to tie himself down. Responsibility was the one thing he always failed at. This wouldn’t be an emotional commitment, it would be business. “It wouldn’t have to be anything personal.”

She choked. Russ moved to stand beside her.

“That didn’t come out right,” he muttered. “I meant that it’s just—”

“Business? Yes, I guessed you’d say that. Let me explain this to you.”

He noted the way she smothered her emotions, her fingers clenching at her sides.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she explained in a quiet voice. “I’d like to help you out, if I could. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal for you to want your inheritance.”

He frowned. She did understand—at least as much as he’d told her. But it wasn’t the money—

She read his face and rushed to finish. “I can’t help you. Not that way. I am not marrying you. Wharton shouldn’t have asked me.”

“Asked you? But—” He stared at her, understanding dawning. She had known. “He wrote you?” Russ murmured.

She nodded.

“Yes. I didn’t get the letter until after he’d died. At first I didn’t connect you with his R.J.” She looked sad for a moment. “But this is not even up for discussion. I’m Drew’s temporary mother. Think about him. How would I explain such a thing to him? No. Drew needs security from me, not a whole new set of changes.” She shook her head vehemently, obviously appalled at the thought of being tied to Russ.

“You said they’d found a relative.” Russ caught her frown of dismay. “You’ll only have yourself to think about when he leaves.”

“I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

Something on her face told him she didn’t want to contemplate Drew leaving. Why was that?

The telephone broke the silence. Annie grabbed the receiver off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Annie.”

Russ was standing near enough to hear a man’s voice.

“Which date did you prefer? Day after tomorrow?”

“I—uh, that is, I haven’t had a chance to look at your notes yet. I just got back from choir practice.” Annie turned her back to Russ. “I’m glad you found a buyer, but I don’t really think they need me to decide whether or not they want my mother’s house.” She held the phone away from her ear, wincing at the jovial tone.

“They claim they do. I want to get this settled, strike while they’ve got their loan approval. We’ve waited a long time for a hot prospect, Annie. Let’s not lose them. I’ll tell them we’ll meet at the house this Tuesday after lunch. Okay?”

Russ thought Annie looked like a hunted fox. She glanced here and there around the room as if a sudden way of escape would open up.

“Unless you want it sooner?”

“No! Tuesday’s fine, I suppose. I just don’t see why they want me there.” She snuggled the phone close, but Russ didn’t even pretend not to listen. The conversation was fascinating, at least Annie’s side of it was.

“Oh, they saw that, did they? Well, I guess if they like it—”

The person on the phone kept talking.

“Everyone?” She seemed to shrink a little. Her voice rose. “I don’t want to be the object of people’s gossip. I want my personal life to be private.” She sighed at his guffaw. “Yes, I know. Privacy is impossible in Safe Harbor. All right. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone, but stood staring at it for several moments. Eventually she moved to the table, but only to stack the rest of their dishes. Russ watched her stuff the white crockery with its delicate blue flowers into the dishwasher.

“Is everything all right?”

She looked at him, gave a half laugh that was not at all amused. “No. Absolutely nothing is all right. But I’ll manage. I always do.”

He got the impression she wanted to do much more than manage. What had happened to cause that sheen of happiness he thought so much a part of her fade away after one phone call? Where did she go when her eyes glazed over and her face stiffened into that mask of rigid self-control?

A sound broke the silence between them. Russ started out the door, twisted his head, noticed she wasn’t following.

“Annie?” She blinked, focused on him. She looked sad, about to burst into tears. He walked back, brushed a hand against her cheek. “I think someone needs you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Annie nodded, turned, walked through the doorway.

Russ followed her.

“Yowl!”

He quickened his step. Uh-oh. He’d meant to explain first.

A man with gray-streaked hair, granite jaw and midnight blue eyes that begged for their help waited in her foyer.

“She won’t leave me alone,” he muttered. He seemed glued to the spot.

“Who won’t?” Annie frowned, her eyes sliding down his frame until they arrived at the monstrously huge body of a marmalade-colored cat curled around his feet, purring a loud contented rumble. A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “Oh, I see.”

“I’m not very good with cats,” he murmured, his face pinched in distressed lines. “Usually they don’t like me at all.”

“Well, this one does.”

“Apparently.” The man tried to move, but the cat counteracted his motions with her own.

Russ stood silent, watched as Annie tried to figure out a way to free her guest from its clutches.

“Were you wanting this place in particular, or did she chase you in here?”

“She was here when I arrived. But the sign says no pets.” His words sounded hesitant, confused. His eyes revealed little of his thoughts. “I’m Nathan Taylor. I’ll be coming to Safe Harbor for the next several months, but only on the weekends. I’d like to rent a room.”

“Wait a minute.” Annie studied him more closely. “I remember you. The man who saved Aidan. You were at my grand opening.”

His face darkened with embarrassment. “Yes.”

“I’m glad to see you again.”

She did look happy, Russ decided. The glare he’d been favored with had disappeared, replaced by a friendly smile.

“Well, we can certainly accommodate you here. As soon as we free you, that is.” Annie glanced at Russ.

He did his best to hide his guilt, but he knew from the furrow of her eyebrows that she’d seen some flicker of it in his face.

“I—er, I may be able to help.” He walked over and scooped up the monster cat. Instantly at peace, Marmalade curled herself over his shoulders and settled down to sleep. “I’m afraid she’s mine,” he admitted quietly.

“What?” Annie frowned at him. “But surely Felicity told you our policy of no pets.”

“Yes, she did.” Oh, why hadn’t he explained the cat’s presence earlier? Now it looked like he’d been trying to slip one past her. Which he had.

“You knew? Then why—”

“I thought that if I explained, you’d understand. She’s completely house-trained. She doesn’t scratch things or tear up shoes. Mostly she sleeps.” He shrugged, trying to appeal to her decency and love of animals, though to be frank, he wasn’t certain she did like animals. She certainly kept well out of reach of his cat.

“Marmalade is another legacy from my grandfather. I brought her in from the truck a few minutes ago.”

Annie ignored her newest client to direct visual darts of suspicion toward Russ Mitchard.

“As I’m positive Felicity explained to you, we don’t allow cats here. I can’t afford the damage claws could do to the quilts or the curtains, not to mention that woodwork.” She blanched a little at the mention of it, her eyes on the oak paneling. “It’s one of the rules I just can’t break.”

She wouldn’t budge. Russ knew that as surely as he knew his name. Annie Simmons was very protective of her business, very proud of what she’d accomplished. He’d noticed it earlier in the way she slid her hand over the gleaming stainless steel range in the kitchen, her quick mop up, which returned the shining glass table they’d eaten on to its pristine condition. She delighted in what she’d made here and she didn’t want it ruined. He didn’t blame her.

Of course, Marmalade wouldn’t hurt anything, but Annie didn’t know that.

“There are no animals allowed in this establishment. If that means you’re unable to stay with us, I’m very sorry, Mr. Mitchard. But I cannot and will not break my rule.” Her lips were pressed together in a firm line that brooked no argument.

“No problem.” He lifted the cat and walked to a corner by the desk. From behind a potted palm he pulled a black pet carrier. Within seconds, he’d stored the cat inside.

Russ wasn’t going to argue. He’d landed enough on her today. If he wanted to make any progress on the marriage issue, he needed to correct this mistake in judgment. He lifted the carrier and walked to the door, then stopped and faced her.

“I’ll find a place for Marmalade and then I’ll be back. She’s been declawed, so she wouldn’t hurt anything. But I don’t want to break your rules. I’ll see you later.”

He walked out her front door, headed for his truck. Today was not going the way he’d intended. But then, what did he expect? To walk in on Annie Simmons, announce that she needed to marry him so he could finally fulfill a dream and expect her to meekly agree? Put like that, it wouldn’t matter how many letters she’d read.

“Thanks a lot, Gramps,” he muttered, only half under his breath. “After today, she’ll probably never talk to me again. Let alone marry me. Then what will you do?” In the recesses of his mind Russ could almost hear the old coot chuckle with delight.

Annie bit her lip as she watched Russ Mitchard walk away with his cat, wishing she’d rephrased that. She’d sounded like a stuffy old spinster who couldn’t allow a cat to muss her home. But getting the bed-and-breakfast finished had taken such a long time, been so much work, eaten up every dime her mother had left her. Besides, the quilts had come from the Women’s League. She couldn’t imagine asking them to make her another because a cat had ruined one!

Then she remembered the reason Russ was here and felt even worse. How embarrassing to be proposed to for money, even by that sweet old man’s grandson. He’d put a nice face on it, pretended that wasn’t the only reason, but Annie knew he couldn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him.

She’d had to refuse his proposal, surely he understood that? If he came back, it would be better to keep things on a business plane and pretend his offer of marriage had never happened. Perhaps if she acted nonchalant, she could spare both their feelings.

A cough broke through her musings. Annie pasted a smile on her face, then turned to the man standing in front of her desk.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor,” she apologized quietly. “Now let’s get you settled in.” She dealt with the registration, took an imprint of his credit card, all the while trying desperately to force Russ Mitchard out of her mind.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” He looked confused.

Annie knew the feeling. Nothing was going the way it should have today. Two new customers, and she was mad?

“You didn’t interrupt a thing. If you’ll follow me?” She made herself calm down as she showed him to his room.

“I take it he’s another guest?”

“That remains to be seen.” Annie met his curious stare but did not elaborate. “Breakfast is served from six-thirty to nine. I hope that will suit you, Mr. Taylor?”

“Sure. Whatever. I’m here to relax.” He set his duffel bag on the bed.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in, then. Please make yourself at home.” She moved toward the doorway.

“If I correctly remember our introduction at your opening, you’re a native to the area, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Curious, Annie turned back, one hand on the doorknob. “Why, yes, I am.”

“Then you know Constance Laughlin.”

“Everyone knows Constance.” Annie smiled. “She’s like our den mother. Anything to do with Safe Harbor has to do with Constance.”

He nodded. Annie studied him, watched his cheeks flush a rich red. He turned away from her scrutiny to peer out the window. Why Constance, she wondered idly.

“You don’t happen to know where I’d find her this afternoon, do you?”

The words tumbled out in a rush, as if he were embarrassed to ask. There was something strange about him, almost furtive. As if he were hiding something. And yet, when she looked into his eyes, they seemed honest, clear. It was just that Russ Mitchard and this crazy day had confused everything.

“Constance?” She pretended to think. “Probably at the church. She’ll be checking the spring bulb collections in the flower beds. Constance has a thing about those bulbs. You might try there. First Peninsula Church.” She gave him directions.

The screech of brakes and a child’s yell cut off her explanation.

Drew!

Annie tore down the stairs, raced out the front door. What had the child done now?

“You could have gotten yourself killed! Me, too, if my reactions hadn’t been fast enough. You never run into the street after something. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

Him again!

Annie saw Drew’s little face crumple at the mention of his mother. He hunched over in the street and bawled.

Annie marched out the door, right up to Russ Mitchard and glared at him.

“Did your mother tell you to think before you speak?” she hissed, glaring at him with the frostiest look she could muster as all her protective instincts swam to the fore. At his blank look, she boiled.

“He hasn’t got a mother,” she told him in a half whisper of pure fury. “I told you that.” She ignored his groan of dismay to crouch beside Drew. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you inside. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Somehow, Annie, I doubt that with you around things will ever be merely fine again.” Russ’s silvery eyes flashed with an inner fire.

Now what did that mean?

Russ brushed her out of the way, bent and scooped the boy into his arms. He carried him into the bed-and-breakfast.

“At least he’s not hurt. Are you?” He set Drew on a chair. Then his hands moved carefully over the small limbs, checking for fractures.

“I’m okay.” Drew dashed one hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry, Annie. I just wanted to see the cat. It was huge.” Drew’s tear-smudged face begged her to understand. “I’ve never seen a cat that big. She almost let me pet her!”

That cat. Again. Annie risked a look at Russ, watched him shrug, as if this, too, wasn’t his fault.

“I thought she was in her carrier?” she demanded softly.

“She was. But I had to let her out. She cries if I keep her in there. That’s why I let her out in here. I was afraid she’d start howling before I could explain.” He flushed. “I just didn’t get around to explaining before—”

“She cries. Uh-huh.” Annie rolled her eyes. What a line.

“Hey, mister? Is that big orange cat yours?” Drew blinked at Russ, hero worship glowing in his pale face.

“Yes. Her name is Marmalade. And your name is Drew. I didn’t recognize you at first, especially when you took off across the street like that.” Russ raked a hand through his black hair, ruining its perfection.

Did his fingers tremble just a little?

“You scared the daylights out of me, Drew.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology was perfunctory. “What are daylights?” He studied Russ for a minute before a new thought took precedence. “Hey! You’re staying here, right? Felicity told Billy’s mom a handsome man had moved in.”

Excitement lent Drew’s eyes a glossy chocolate sheen.

“So that means your cat will be staying here, too. All right!” He jumped up, twisted to face Annie. “I can play with her, can’t I? I never had a cat before. My mom—” He stopped, gulped hard but stoically continued, a sheen of fresh tears glossing his eyes. “Remember, Annie? Mom was allergic, so I couldn’t have any animals at our place.”

Russ cleared his throat. Annie ignored him. She was going to have to eat crow. She didn’t need him to rub it in.

Drew had lost everything. His little world had shifted, changed irrevocably when he’d lost his parents. She had a business to run, but was that a good enough reason to deny Drew the comfort of an overfed orange feline? No. She was all for anything that would make Drew’s life a little happier. Wasn’t that what parenting was all about?

“You can’t deny the kid a cat,” Russ whispered in her ear, satisfaction resonating through his rumbling voice. “Marmalade is here to stay.”

But you aren’t, she thought, twisting to look into his silvery eyes. You won’t be staying here long.

She’d known him only a short while, talked to him for less than an hour, but she knew a lot about Russ Mitchard. And somehow she just knew that settling down wasn’t in Russ’s long-term plans. She had a hunch from something Mr. Willoughby had once said that as soon as Russ had his business running smoothly, he’d be off searching for greener pastures. Wasn’t that what had worried his grandfather so much—the fear that R.J. was running away from life?

Still, as long as he was a guest at her bed-and-breakfast, she’d have to face him every day, be civil. Probably even explain repeatedly that there was no hope of him marrying her. The thought of that daily contact left her both wary and excited.

Why was that?

Annie was afraid she was going to find out.