Sanctuary Cove. Kate James
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it.
Emma settled the dogs and slipped on her sandals as Josh brushed the fur from his clothes. He went to get his truck from where he’d left it on the driveway while she locked up. By the time Emma stepped outside, he was holding the passenger door open for her.
It was a short half-hour drive to Lake George. Josh had made reservations at the Charthouse, a historic boathouse converted into a casually elegant restaurant with stunning waterfront views. They were seated on the patio by the railing.
A waitress with a sleek cap of sable-brown hair and a bright smile took their orders and, after serving their drinks, discreetly left them alone.
Emma sipped her wine and gazed out over the water at the occasional passing boat. There was something wistful in her eyes that prompted him to ask “What’s on your mind?”
She shifted her gaze to meet his. “Oh, I was just thinking how wonderful it is not to have to worry about my next appointment or listen to the blare of congested traffic. How much better to have no one to answer to for my time except myself and be lulled by the gentle sloshing of the water against the rocks and pylons as the waves roll ashore.”
The corners of her mouth curved upward, but Josh sensed something melancholy about the gentle smile. He brushed his hand lightly along her forearm. “Despite your words, you don’t seem happy.”
The smile dimmed and she glanced back to the water. “I don’t know if being unhappy would be possible here. There’s something calming about this place. Not just the restaurant. I mean Sanctuary Cove.” One side of her mouth quirked again. “So peaceful. There’s so much beauty here.” She gestured with her hands and her soft laugh stirred something inside Josh.
“That’s why I set up my practice here,” Josh responded. “I have no interest in living anywhere else. I’d suffocate in the city. It’s not me.”
Taking another sip of her wine, Emma placed the glass on the table and rested her hand next to it. “You don’t miss the clubs, the restaurants, the activity...the people?” she inquired with a degree of skepticism.
He smiled. “What’s there to miss?” He took her hand into his. It pleased him that she didn’t pull it away. He stroked his thumb across the soft skin in the center of her palm, then the small ridge of calluses at the base of her fingers. He raised a brow inquiringly, but she didn’t seem to notice, so he continued. “I was never much for clubs, although I went to my share of them while in university. As you can see, there are great restaurants here, and the views can’t be beat. I find the people here warmer, more genuine, more community-minded than anywhere else I’ve been. Frankly, I’ve always found big cities too impersonal.” He leaned forward and raised her hand to his lips. Placing a kiss on her palm, he curled her fingers over it.
When Emma drew her hand away, she kept her fist closed, as if trying to hold on to what he’d placed in it, and it pleased him.
As the waitress arrived to serve their appetizers, they lapsed into silence.
Once she left again, Josh asked, “What did you do in the city?”
Emma toyed with the food on her plate, then took a small bite of her stuffed mushrooms. “I worked in communications and media relations,” she finally responded.
“That sounds interesting. What made you leave it?” He took a bite of his crab cakes and then reached for his wine.
“I—I found I wasn’t as well suited to the job as I’d thought.”
Josh glanced up. “What do you mean by not suited?”
The sun was drifting below the horizon, and streaks of crimson and gold shot into the darkening sky and across the midnight blue surface of the water. Emma shrugged her shoulder, popped another stuffed mushroom into her mouth and looked away. “I guess it just wasn’t meant for me. I...in the end, I suppose I wasn’t good enough to play in the big leagues.”
He noted the look of hurt in the depth of her eyes again. “How long did you have your job?”
“Just over twelve years...but not the same job. I had a few promotions.”
“Someone doesn’t hold a job for a dozen years and get promoted if they’re not good at what they do.”
“Oh, well...”
She was clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Josh hadn’t intended to push it, but he felt she was being much too hard on herself. He decided to let it go...for now.
They finished their appetizers and sat in companionable silence as their plates were cleared, their meals served and their wineglasses topped up.
Josh was struck again by how beautiful Emma was. Her eyes were a soft gray in the muted light, with just a hint of blue. Her cheekbones were strong slashes across her face, her nose straight and small. And her lips—her lips were full and wide, and glistened with warm color in the candlelight.
When the waitress left, Josh took Emma’s hand in his again. “You’re exquisite, Emma.”
Her discomfort was immediate and palpable. She tried to pull her hand away but he held tight. She forced a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. Inadvertently, he’d already happened upon a number of hardships she’d had to endure, but he’d just hit on something else. She wasn’t comfortable with compliments.
He released her hand so they could eat, but held her gaze a moment longer. “I like you, Emma,” he said softly. “I want to understand what’s hurt you.”
She cut into her steak. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m in no hurry,” he assured her. “And it might help to talk about it.”
Emma poked the steak with her fork a few times, before tasting the piece she’d cut, then glanced up at him with guarded eyes. “Until six months ago, I was engaged to the man I’d believed I would spend my life with. And I had what I considered a successful career. My ex-fiancé, Richard...” She paused, and kept her head lowered. “I’ve always been a firm believer of leaving past relationships in the past.” She took a sip of wine, and with a short laugh, she glanced up at Josh. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“I’m a good listener,” he said.” As he watched her struggle, something inside him shifted and then seemed to settle in place. He was reminded again of a wounded bird, she looked so forlorn. Yet, what he was feeling wasn’t sympathy for her pain, but something decidedly more.
“Richard, and I,” she continued, “had collaborated professionally on occasion. I was with Tyson, Myers and Smith.” She glanced at him and he shook his head, not recognizing the name.
“They’re one of the top communications firms in the state, and Richard is a criminal defense attorney with a major law firm. Frequently, his corporate clients seeking legal defense also required advice from a communications or media relations perspective as their alleged acts were often a topic of shareholder or media scrutiny.”
The waitress appeared to ask about their meals. When they were alone again, Emma gazed across the darkening water and continued. “Our last collaboration wasn’t a successful one. We had a high-profile client who was attracting a great deal of media attention. In this person’s line of work, reputation is crucial. When I learned more about the circumstances that led to the media interest... I couldn’t do what my client wanted me to. Add to that, he wasn’t forthcoming or truthful with us.” Her gaze shifted back to Josh’s and held. Her eyes were a deep gray, shadowed by regret and pain.
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