“Someone saw my car in the Howland House parking lot after midnight on Wednesday.”
“And drew a reasonable conclusion?”
She let go of a long breath that hissed in his ear. “I guess. But gossip is gossip even if it’s true. I keep telling myself I don’t care what people are saying, but I do. Is that screwed up?”
“No.”
“So,” she said into his silence, “maybe we could meet somewhere discreet or—”
“I’ll bring food over to your place.”
There was a small hesitation before she said, “Okay.”
“Before you hang up. What’s the problem?”
“Just a complication. But I’d rather talk to you face to face about it.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know whether to relax or to worry. Maybe a little of both. “I’ll be there around six, okay? Chops from Annie’s work for you?”
“That’s fine. See you then.” And she hung up without one word about what had happened on Wednesday.
He might as well have been speaking to his architect.
* * *
Topher rang the doorbell precisely at 6:00 p.m., sending a flight of butterflies through Jessica’s middle. She hadn’t exactly been looking forward to this meeting, but she hadn’t been dreading it, either.
The truth was complicated. She didn’t want to lose her focus because of some man in her life. She didn’t want to become dependent the way Momma had. She needed her independence the way some people needed air to breathe.
And Topher was a threat to that. A big, beautiful, sexy threat.
She opened the door to find him with a bag from Aunt Annie’s Kitchen in one hand and a bouquet of bright-pink roses that had probably come from Ashley’s garden in the other.
He looked more adorable than threatening standing there in a blue Tommy Bahama shirt, his hair still shower-damp, his spicy scent mingling with the barbecue. He’d trimmed his beard back again, to the thinnest of scruffs, almost as if he didn’t care what she thought about his scars.
Her heart skidded sideways. The truth was that she didn’t care. Did that mean he was willing to overlook her imperfections?
He thrust out the bouquet like an awkward teenager. “For you,” he said.
“From Ashley’s garden?”
He nodded. “But I cut them myself. I have thorn scratches to prove it.”
She took the flowers, their scent lingering between them. “Come on in. I’ll get a vase for these and dishes for the food.”
He followed her down the hall into the dining room, where he put down the paper sack. “Can I help?”
She shook her head and escaped into the kitchen for a moment, taking care of the flowers and then stacking a couple of plates, silverware, napkins, and two Heinekens on a tray.
They sat down at one end of the long dinner table, two lonely people huddling in a corner of a table big enough for a family of ten or more. She dug into the paper bag and pulled out the polystyrene containers of the chops, okra and tomatoes, and hush puppies. She arranged the food on two plates. He popped the top on his beer but didn’t say a word until Jessica placed his plate in front of him.
“So, what’s the problem with the house?” he asked.
Thank goodness. She didn’t want to talk about last Wednesday. She wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. Not because people were gossiping. Not because of the look in Granny’s eye this afternoon that had so enraged her.
But because she didn’t trust her own heart. Because she wanted it to happen again. And she feared that if it did, she’d lose her way and her focus. She’d belong to him, and she didn’t want to belong to anyone.
So she pushed all that difficult emotional stuff away to tell him about the flyers she’d seen on Harbor Drive.
“The handbills suggest that Caleb has joined forces with the Conservation Society. They claim that he’s about to introduce legislation that would stop all development on Lookout Island.”
She looked down at her food. “I’m so sorry. I can’t shake the feeling that this is somehow my fault. I mean, if—”
“How on earth is this your fault?”
She looked up, and he pinned her with his endless blue stare. “I don’t know. I just feel…” She shrugged.
“Okay, let’s make something clear. This is not your fault. Any more than the rumors Caleb started were your fault.”
“We don’t know for certain that Caleb started those rumors about me.”
“No, that’s true. It could have been anyone who didn’t like the idea of a white girl having