Fortunate Harbor - By Emilie Richards Page 0,131

She knew Henrietta liked CJ. But to invite him to live on board her yacht? She felt instantly protective of the older woman.

“CJ, what are you doing?”

“Finding a more comfortable place to close my eyes.”

“Henrietta is the patroness of the rec center, where I happen to work. I so don’t want you screwing up my job.”

“How could my sleeping in her guest cabin interfere with your job? I thought you’d be happy to have me out of here.”

“Isn’t it time to go back to California and see what’s going on with your case?”

“I have a cell phone. When they need me, I can fly out the same day. And who knows, one day maybe the Feds will come to escort me.”

She studied him. “There’s something here I’m just not seeing.”

“Who taught you to be so cynical?”

Her gaze didn’t flicker.

He held up his hands again. “Okay, okay. But if you don’t trust me, look up all the legal gobbledygook on one of those legal databases, and you can read everything about the case you ever needed to know.”

“Fix yourself a sandwich if you like.” She gestured to the kitchen.

“May I still come by and see you?”

She considered. He looked like a little boy trying to get back into Mommy’s good graces after tracking in mud. “Is there anything I can do to stop you?”

“Do you want to?”

That, of course, was the question she couldn’t seem to answer. In fact, there was another one, too. Why was she even the tiniest bit sorry he was trading her sofa for a berth on Henrietta’s yacht? These were questions too complex for simple answers. Unfortunately, she couldn’t deny she was going to miss having him here, miss having him bring her dinner and entertain her when she was down.

“I want to be something more to you than a boarder and a burden,” he said, his voice low, almost a caress.

“What’s the next step up? Pain in the ass? “

“You know what I mean. I want you to trust me. I want you to know you can count on me. I want you to smile when you see me coming.”

She knew he wanted more—and hated that she knew it. She’d lived with him too long not to understand his bottom line. CJ wanted back into her life and bed. He was inching his way forward, and she was letting him.

It was a darned good thing he was clearing out.

“I’m leaving in a little while,” she said. “A good time for you to pack.”

“I don’t have much.”

Why did she think that wouldn’t last long? Despite traces of nostalgia, she couldn’t shake the feeling CJ was after something besides her. Or maybe she was just part of a larger scheme. And therein, of course, lay all their problems. She wondered what it would take to make her really trust him.

“A miracle,” she said out loud.

He cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

She realized she’d answered her own question. “Miracle Whip,” she improvised. “Fat free. It was on sale this week. And tomato and bread. All on the counter. Help yourself.”

She was pulling into Marsh’s driveway before she let herself think about her destination. In her heart, she’d been heading toward this end of the key all weekend. All she’d needed was an excuse. Strangely enough, CJ had given it to her when he mentioned legal databases. Now she just had to find the courage to use it, even though Marsh might well reject her.

The tin roof of the Cracker house shimmered in the afternoon sun, and she could hear the whir of an air conditioner from the back. Marsh only used air-conditioning in the worst weather, and today qualified. As she turned off the engine and slid out of her seat, her blouse stuck to her back. Her hair felt as flat and lifeless as a day-old soft drink.

At moments like this she missed California. Had she still been married to an unindicted CJ, she would have spent the morning at the country club, on the golf course or tennis court. About now she would be lunching with a friend, eating a beautifully presented salad and sipping sparkling water with a twist of lime. They would be gossiping about, well, somebody, and the service staff would be standing by, in case they needed a crumb brushed off the table or a napkin straightened.

And she would be bored. Not that her life had needed to be boring. There’d been plenty of women in her circle who made each day interesting

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