Inner Harbor

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun here.”

“Sometimes.” The glow in his eyes seemed to dim a little. Then he smiled. “I’ll admit, I never cared much about anything but the water.” He held the door open for her.

Annie flicked off the lights, then stepped outside, grateful that the sun still shone, that the days had lengthened. Winter was almost gone, and she was glad. She loved the rebirth of life spring always brought. It meant hope, new beginnings, a chance to change.

“The water?” she murmured while wondering how to make a graceful exit.

“I was addicted to water. Am addicted.” He grinned at her puzzled look. “Boating,” he explained. “Give me a sailboat and a light breeze, and the rest of the world fades away.”

The way he said it, eyes flashing silver glints like wave crests rolling across the midnight deep, snagged Annie’s attention. Drew’s parents, her best friends, had been like that, totally relaxed in the world of water. They’d hoped to impart that love to their small son, but since their deaths, Drew hadn’t been on a boat, hadn’t expressed the least interest in them. That was one area in which Annie felt she’d failed her dearest high school friend—not teaching Rhonda’s son the joys of sailing. If the cousin took him soon, she’d lose her chance. Sadness at the emptiness of a life without Drew gripped her.

“That’s one reason I chose this place to set up my shop.” His stare grew more intent. “Though there were several other factors.”

It sounded like he was hinting at something. But Annie had no idea what that could be about, and she needed to get back to work.

“I see. Well, goodbye. And thanks.” Annie skipped down the church steps and traveled on the sidewalk toward home, a faded memory gurgling up from the depths of her mind.

Russ Mitchard reminded her of her father. Though he’d been dead for ten years, killed in a car accident in some far distant place, what she remembered of her dad bore a remarkable resemblance to the man at the church. No, it was far more than his tall, handsome looks. Her father’s reputation as a charmer, smooth, glib, funny, with the glitz and charisma that drew people like bees to jam, worked exactly the way Russ Mitchard had drawn Annie’s attention with his dancing eyes that promised so much.

Her protective radar beeped an alarm. Her father had cruised through life on his personality and wit. And he’d made her mother’s life a misery. Of course, she and Russ wouldn’t have much contact, but she’d be doubly careful. She had her business and Drew; that would take all her time. Besides, a handsome, rugged man like him would hardly be interested in Annie Simmons.

“Are you going somewhere?” Annie realized she was halfway home and he was still there, beside her, as they waited at the corner for traffic to pass.

“Of course I’m going somewhere.” He matched her step for step across the road, his hand slipping beneath her elbow when she tripped on a crack in the pavement. He chuckled. “Some things never change, especially potholes.” He volunteered nothing else.

“Well, this is my destination.” Annie tugged her arm away from him and stepped back. “I own the Lighthouse Bed-and-Breakfast.”

“That’s nice. It looks a lot better than the last time I saw it. You’ve done a lot of work.” He stared at her, head tilted in a lopsided way, asking a question without saying a word.

What he was asking wasn’t immediately clear. But something about that stare and the familiarity of it kicked her heart rate up a notch. Annie shifted, avoided his glance. Her mouth was dry, her palms sweaty. She swallowed, searched for something to say that would break his focus on her.

“Have you lived in Safe Harbor all your life?”

She nodded.

“I don’t remember you. You’d think I’d have run into you once or twice back then.” He smiled that playboy grin that sent her heart rate soaring.

“I assure you, I was quite forgettable as a child,” she told him dryly. “Shy, boring. Not at all the adventurous type. Besides, I didn’t spend much time near the water. I had other interests.” Like looking after her mother when her father’s usual promise of a summer vacation fell through—as it always had.

“Still, I think I’d have remembered you. If we’d met.” He smiled.

“Yes, well—” She turned, pulled open the door. “Good—”

“Oh, not goodbye, I hope. Not yet.” He stepped in behind her. “We’ve barely become acquainted.” Russ grinned again, that provocative smile flashing white against the rich, healthy tan of his face.

She didn’t want to become better acquainted. Not with him. She’d never been good with men. And this particular man made her more nervous than usual. Her palms were sweaty even though the spring breeze off the water chilled the outside air. She shifted nervously.

“I have to go now.” She walked toward the counter, turned and saw him standing there. “Can I direct you somewhere?”

“I’m already there—er, here. But thank you.” He fiddled with the brass ship’s bell that hung just inside the door. “You’ve kept some of the relics, I see. We used to dash in here and ring this whenever Mr. Potter was out in his garden.” A winsome smile flickered, tilting the corners of his lips. “He chased us with his flyswatter.”

“Us?” Annie wished she’d bitten her tongue when his startled glance leaped to hers, eyes darkening once more to that sad, forlorn pewter that drowned all the fun.

“Just some other kids.” He avoided her stare. A noise behind Annie drew his attention, and the glint reappeared. “Ah, another beautiful lady to brighten my day. How goes it?”

Felicity Smith nodded at Annie, but her attention was all on him.

“I see you’ve met Russ.” Felicity grinned, cheeks glowing pink at the wink he sent her way. “Russ will be staying with us for the next month or so.”

“He will?” Her first customer, and he had to be a flirt!

“He’s opening The Quest. He’ll be selling silver lamps.” Felicity fairly oozed with admiration, her brown eyes melting with adulation. “I think it will be wonderful to have the place open again, Russ.”

“Thanks, Felicity.”

Annie felt an overwhelming need to break up this mutual admiration society.

“Yes, it will be nice.” She walked behind the counter and glanced at the ledger. Apparently Mr. Russ Mitchard, of no fixed address, was to be her only customer. One client was better than none, wasn’t he?

“I hear an unspoken ‘but’ in your voice.” Russ leaned against the counter, shadowed chin propped on one palm.

“I’m glad the bookstore is able to remain open.” She shrugged. “It’s full of character. I used to go there often when my mother was alive, but lately…”

“I heard about the accident. I understand.” He nodded, his voice sympathetic. “I can imagine it hasn’t been easy on your godson, either.” He shrugged. “Perhaps seeing the place open again will ease his memories, help him see life goes on.” His attention shifted to Felicity. “I’ll bet Annie was one of those little girls who lost themselves in fairy tales and dreamed of her own Prince Charming.”

He was so exactly on target that Annie drew into her shell.

“Actually I studied birds,” she informed him. “I had a thing for birds.”

“Still do. Birds and wildflowers. Which anyone who looks through this place could tell right off. Her watercolors are all over the place.” Felicity grinned, then shrugged into her jacket. “I’ve got to get going. Saturday is our play day, and my daughter doesn’t like waiting. See you, Annie. Bye, Russ.” She disappeared like a whirlwind, her long legs carrying her out the door and down the street in mere seconds.

“When she goes, she really goes.” Russ swiveled his head, watched Felicity’s lithe figure disappear. “She seems nice. Straightforward.” He was looking at Annie again.

“As straight as they come.” Annie wished the phone would ring. Anything to get his focus off of her.

“Unlike you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She glared at him. “I’m no crook.”

His finger grazed her cheek, cupped her chin, forced her to look at him.

“I didn’t mean that. But you’ve got secrets, Annie girl. Anyone can see that. Sad secrets buried in the glacial silt of those blue eyes. It’s going to take some work to dig them out.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing glacial about my eyes. They’re just plain old blue.” She jerked her chin away, then stepped out from behind the counter. “Besides, in a place like Safe Harbor, it’s impossible to have secrets.”

“Do you think so?” He sounded strange, almost hopeful.

Annie took a deep breath and refocused. She was his hostess. Time to earn her money and act like it.

“Did Felicity show you to your room?”

“Changing the subject, Annie?”

“Yes. Did she?”

He nodded, his mouth tilted in a wicked grin. “She did. Thank you.”

“Good. Fine. Excellent.” She was babbling. “Well, make yourself at home then. Let me know if you need anything.” She turned, walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. There she made a pot of coffee, chose a freshly baked cinnamon bun from the rack.

When she turned again, he stood leaning against the door frame, leather jacket gone but still the charmer in black cashmere and worsted slacks. If she’d snapped a photo of him, Annie would have titled it The Ultimate Flirt. Funny, she’d thought she’d heard him leave.

“Wanna share?”

“Oh. Well, it’s up to you.” What else could she say? He was her guest. She poured two cups of coffee, then motioned toward the cinnamon rolls. He put three on the plate she offered.

“I’m good at sharing.” He laughed at her look. “I’m also starved.”

“I see that.”

They sat down at the small bistro table under a bank of windows that overlooked a tiny flagstone patio and Lake Michigan beyond. Suddenly Annie remembered.

“Since you’re going to be living here, I wonder if you’d be interested in playing for our children’s choir—the same music you played today. Easter morning.” She rushed on, blurting out the facts in no particular order. “They’re good kids, but I can’t direct and play, and they need to practice to memorize their parts. We haven’t yet begun to coordinate with the readers, and that will take a lot of work to get the timing right, and—”

“Okay.”

“And then, of course, there are the robes to think of. Someone else is handling them, but I expect—” She stopped, stared at him. “What did you say?”

“I said I’ll play for you. The organ?” His eyes sparkled with mirth. “That was what you asked, wasn’t it?”

“Oh. Yes, it was.” Annie gulped. That easy? “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He licked the white Danish icing off his fingertips, then took a sip of coffee before leaning back in his chair like a satisfied cat just finished a bowl of cream. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“Talk to me?” she demanded, suspicious of the odd smile twitching at his handsome mouth. “Why?”

“Calm down. It’s nothing horrible,” he assured her. “I can see the worst ideas flickering through your eyes.”

“What could you possibly have to talk to me about? We’ve only just met.”

“Remember I told you we used to come here in the summer?”

She nodded.

“My parents are both lawyers in Chicago. They’re very busy. Back then they lived in Green Bay and they wanted a place nearby where our family could get away from work and relax together.” His voice tightened a fraction.

“Oh, yes.” She still didn’t see what that had to do with her.

“My grandparents would come sometimes, too. My grandfather wasn’t crazy about leaving work. He was a workaholic, and lazing around made him very uncomfortable. But my mom loved having her mother visit us at the cottage, and my gran adored the lake. They spent a lot of time talking. My grandfather didn’t dare put a damper on that because Gran was the love of his life.” Those unusual eyes darkened with emotion. “Their marriage was perfect, exactly what everyone thinks of when they say the word love. Unfortunately Gran died eight years ago.”

“Oh.” Where was this going? “They were your only grandparents?”

“The only ones I knew. Dad’s parents died before I was born. They lived in New York.”

Mitchard. The name pricked her memory. A newspaper article, what, a month ago? Something named in memory, wasn’t it? Annie stared at him. “The land developer?”

He smiled. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” What else was there to say? Russ Mitchard’s grandfather had been a household name and certainly a workaholic. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to put grandiose building schemes aside to traipse around Door Country like the tourists. If she remembered correctly, the son, Russ’s father, was an only child and had inherited everything when Mitchard Senior had a heart attack. Curiosity got the better of her.

“With that history, it seems strange you’d choose the career you have. I’d have thought you’d follow your grandfather, build more office buildings.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I do.”

The belligerent words startled her.

“I didn’t say there was. I just thought—” She stopped when his face darkened. “Never mind.” She sipped her coffee, thinking. “So you came back to Safe Harbor because of your memories.”

“I came back because the marketing studies I commissioned showed great potential for my business here.” The words stopped abruptly.

“Good for you. And welcome to our town.” She tried to lighten the tone.

“I have another reason for staying, though, Annie.” He peered at her.

“Really?” She laughed nervously. There was something about those unusual eyes. “Well, according to the Chamber of Commerce there are a lot of reasons anyone would choose Safe Harbor.”

“It had nothing to do with the Chamber of Commerce. I’d already decided to set up shop here, just not quite yet. But then my grandfather upped the ante. More particularly, his will did.”

Something—a fizzle of awareness—shot through her. “Your grandfather’s will said you had to live in Safe Harbor?” she whispered.

“No.” He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. “My grandfather’s will said I have to marry you to collect my inheritance.”

Annie stared with shock into that cool gray gaze. So this was R.J. She wished she’d been prepared. But then, wasn’t that why Wharton Willoughby had written her, to prepare her?

As she watched him, a mask slid into place, shielding his expressive eyes from her. How much did he know, she wondered. Was he aware of the relationship she’d shared with his grandfather?

“What did you say your name was?”

He frowned. “Russell James Mitchard. Most people call me Russ. My gramps used to call me R.J. Why?”

All hope that this was a case of mistaken identity flew away. Annie swallowed.

R.J. This was the beloved grandson, the man her dearest friend had chosen as her husband. A husband she didn’t want.

Ignorance was bliss. And it was worth a try if it deflated this crazy idea before it got airborne. She’d pretend his proposal came as a shock.

“Proposing marriage to someone you’ve only just met is preposterous. I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down your proposal, Mr. Mitchard. I’m not interested in getting married.”

“Now?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“Ever.”

The mask dissolved. His eyes narrowed, intensifying their scrutiny of her, probing for answers. He wouldn’t give up easily. Annie felt her heart sink to her shoes. She’d liked Wharton Willoughby a lot, but marriage? No way.

She’d tread her life path alone, and keep her heart safe.

Chapter Two

“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.