Two Hearts, Slightly Used. Dixie Browning
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measure and elbowed her way up onto the splintery wharf.
And then she quietly collapsed, breathing deeply of the cold, fish-and-diesel-oil-smelling air. In the distance a noisy truck rattled past, the first sign of life she’d seen all day other than the wheeling gulls that searched the dark waters of the harbor for scraps of food.
Not until the chill began to creep into her bones did she turn to the task at hand. Making several trips to her car, she loaded her various bags and boxes aboard and set out again, her mind on trying to remember which box held her coffee filters and which held her supply of granola makings.
Somewhat to her surprise the entire operation, practice maneuvers included, had taken only slightly over an hour.
* * *
Back on Coronoke, Brace stood at the end of the pier in his briefs and boots, oblivious to the raw, cutting wind, and ran through about six yards of gutter profanity. Dammit, he’d known the first time he’d set eyes on that woman that she was going to be trouble! In the first place, she had no business even being here! Keegan had sworn he would have the place to himself, otherwise he never would’ve agreed to the deal.
Evidently she’d bought his story about the lack of basic amenities. Damn good thing, too. If that hadn’t worked, he’d planned to hit her with a tale about hurricanes, tornadoes and man-eating mosquitoes and throw in a few alligators for good measure.
But dammit, why’d she have to go and steal his boat? He’d already made up his mind to ferry her back across to the marina. If there was one thing that irritated him more than a clinging, whining female, it was one of the superindependent types.
Brace had been shaving when he’d heard the outboard sputter a few times and start up. He’d gone racing down to the landing in his briefs and boots, face covered with shaving cream, in time to see her roar out of the harbor, hanging on to the stick like a chicken in a high wind. While he stood there swearing, the phone had started ringing back at the Hunt, and he’d raced back and grabbed it just in time to hear the disconnect.
Still swearing under his breath, he’d jogged back down to the landing, wondering what the devil was happening to his nice, private little retreat. No one was even supposed to know where he was except for the Keegans and Pete Bing.
He figured it was Keegan, calling to check up on things. Pete knew better than to put the screws on him at this point in their negotiations. Brace had left it at the “don’t call me, I’ll call you” stage. He still had a lot of thinking to do before he signed on with any outfit. Not that he had any doubts about Bing Aero. He had plenty, however, about the woman involved.
And Sharon would definitely be involved. Brace didn’t kid himself on that score. With Sharon, the bottom line came first; personal relationships limped in a poor second. The deal had been a straightforward one—cash on the barrelhead in exchange for a hefty bundle of stock in the privately owned corporation, a modest salary and an impressive sounding title. Eventually he would take over the design division.
It was a sweet deal for a guy who had never held down a desk in his life. Never wanted to, but now that his choices had narrowed down, it didn’t look all that bad.
Even so, he’d have to do some pretty serious thinking before tying himself up in a long-term deal. Pete had hinted at some of the experimental stuff they were doing, knowing that Brace would find it hard to turn it down, now that his test-pilot days were definitely over.
He’d been right. Brace had been up-front about the fact that he’d been approached by two other outfits and had asked for three months to make up his mind. That had been six weeks ago. The clock was still running.
And now this! Dammit, how the devil was a guy supposed to concentrate?
Scowling at the receding wake of Keegan’s red runabout, he tried to recall if he’d topped off the tank after the last couple of supply runs. Late yesterday, just before she’d showed up, he’d cruised around to the northwest side of the island to check out the three hunting blinds there. He’d run over to collect his mail, and the marina had been closed, and...
Brace swore again under his breath. The lady was beginning to get on his nerves! Thanks to her tricks, he was going to have to put one of the other boats in the water and get another outboard out of storage just to retrieve the runabout.
Stalking back up to the Hunt to finish shaving and get dressed, he told himself to cheer up. At least she was gone. That was the good news.
The bad news was that he’d been the one to chase her off, and he’d lied to achieve his ends. Even at his worst he’d never been much of a liar.
Right on schedule his conscience kicked in again. Until she’d come nosing around his private sanctuary with her holier-than-thou attitude, he hadn’t even known he possessed a conscience. So what if he hadn’t exactly welcomed her to the island? Dammit, it was for her own good! She would’ve hated it if he’d let her stay, and he’d have had to put up with her whining about the wind and the sand and the bone-aching cold. There was nothing here for a woman. Especially not for a woman alone. Women didn’t thrive in isolated outposts, they needed bright lights and lots of attention, neither of which was available on Coronoke.
And besides, dammit, she wasn’t his responsibility!
On the other hand, Keegan’s boat was.
Figuring she’d have had just about enough time to reach the marina if he’d left enough gas in the tank to get her that far, Brace grabbed a pass key off the board and jogged down the wooded trail to her cottage to be sure she hadn’t left behind so much as a single hairpin. Once she hit Highway 12, he didn’t want her to have any excuse to come back.
She hadn’t left a hairpin, she’d left a whole damn suitcase! About a years’ worth of supplies were still piled on the kitchen counter where he’d parked them the night before. By the time he found the toothbrush, the bottle of lotion in the bathroom and the gown tossed across the foot of her unmade bed, the tendons at the back of his neck were so tight his fingers wouldn’t even uncurl.
She hadn’t left. Dammit to hell and back. The miserable little sneak thief had stolen his boat and gone back for the rest of her gear! Hadn’t she heard a word he’d said?
So much for the gentlemanly approach. She wanted to play hard ball? Great. Let’s see how she liked his fast ball!
Working with practiced efficiency, Brace crammed her few scattered belongings into her suitcase, stripped the bed and crammed the sheets in on top of her clothes, then scanned the quarters for anything he might have missed.
He tossed her suitcase out onto the deck beside her laptop computer and stalked back inside for the groceries. She’d bought ‘em—she could damn well have ‘em! He only hoped she hadn’t stocked up on ice cream, because he could do without having his last clean pair of jeans leaked all over!
Although in this weather, the stuff might not even have melted. The temperature hung in the low forties outside. The house, which had been battened down since October, felt even colder.
Once again the conscience Brace hadn’t known he possessed kicked in. She must’ve worn her clothes over the nightgown to sleep in. No blanket in evidence. According to Maudie, most cottage owners provided a few summer-weight blankets, but evidently she hadn’t known where to look.
“Dammit, nobody comes here in the dead of winter, especially not a lone female!” He automatically excepted Maudie Keegan, who had once lived alone on the island year-round as caretaker. Maudie was a different breed of cat. She was a local, used to the treacherous Outer Banks weather, which could go from mild to wild in a matter of minutes; accustomed to being without power, sometimes for days on end.
A small, all but unrecognizable voice whispered that maybe he should give the woman a second chance—show her around, clue her in on the power situation, lend her a few blankets and show her where to plug in her phone—
No way. She might not appreciate it now, but he was doing her a big favor. She’d probably thought she was coming down to