Night Music (7 page)

She turned to look back at Devlin and Lettice. Lettice seemed to be walking vigorously, like a
teenager almost. She admired the long line of Devlin’s back, the breadth of his shoulders, and the way his pants clung to his backside. As if he felt her gaze on him, he turned around. Hilary immediately faced forward again, humiliated at being caught.

She’d been caught by a lot of things that day, things that had left her shaken and confused and vulnerable.

Never again, she thought. Never again would Devlin Kitteridge catch her out.

Four

She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Hilary scanned the docks from the parking lot above, then cursed herself for doing so. She had had to come down to Somers Point to buy very fresh fish for the dinner she was catering. Mrs. Hargreaves was extremely fussy, after all. And Somers Point was just a hop, skip, and a jump from Wildwood.

Okay, she thought. So it was more like forty minutes in the car. A little detour on the way home. She was just taking the scenic route, she rationalized, then cursed again and admitted the truth.

She had come out of curiosity about Devlin. One couldn’t help but be curious after no contact for five days. The grandparents were ripe for the striking, she had thought. He’d seemed to think so too. So why hadn’t he called to arrange another act to the show?

Hilary sat back in her car seat and sighed. She’d never find the
Madeline Jo
from up here. At the
hospital tea she had desperately wanted to ask whom his boat was named after, but she’d sensed a wall closing off inside him. Jealousy had curled through her then, and it had eaten at her ever since. Who was this Madeline person? And what was she to him that he’d named his boat after her? Jealousy should have been a ludicrous emotion where Devlin Kitteridge was concerned. Who the women were in his life was none of her business. She shouldn’t care.

Hilary shook the thought away. Good thing this matchmaking was a joke. She had never seen two more completely incompatible people than they.

And yet that kiss …

She tightened her fingers around the steering wheel and forced away the sensuality curling up her thighs. It had been just a kiss and just for show. He’d said that. So had she. He might be sexy … Okay, he
was
sexy. He’d even been almost human the other day too. But that didn’t mean she had to be stupid. Anything with Devlin was a very dead end.

Go home
, she told herself. But her fingers didn’t reach to switch on the ignition. Somehow they couldn’t. She scanned the docks again, then gave up when she couldn’t see the names on the boats. No one looked familiar either. She remembered him talking about his charters going out early in the morning. It was after one, and she wondered if he’d even be there. He could still be out, or perhaps home already, wherever that was. But if she could just get a look at the
Madeline Jo
 …

The notion was growing ever more tempting. For some reason her mind wouldn’t leave it alone. She didn’t have to get up close, only close enough to
know she was looking at the right one. One glimpse would do. That was all. One glimpse.

She checked her hair in the rearview mirror, made a face, then shoved her dark sunglasses back up onto her nose. She got out of the car and walked slowly to the steep ramp that led down to the docks themselves. The whole time she was looking for Devlin, ready to turn and run the moment she saw him. Curiosity was one thing, getting caught at it was another.

The sun was hot, and the cooling breezes that blew off the ocean just five blocks away were nonexistent here. The docks were busy, though, as people worked on boats or lounged on the decks. Seagulls called raucously overhead. Her heels made walking along the slatted boards a major operation in care. Her gaze was divided between watching where she was stepping and trying to spot Devlin before he spotted her. By the time she got down to where the boats were, her stomach muscles were clenched with anxiety.

She walked past small sailboats, ketches, cabin cruisers, and fishing boats with tall lookouts above the captain’s cabin. She was almost to the last place on the dock before she saw it. The
Madeline Jo
was long and sleek and clearly cared for by loving hands. The boat’s brass-and-chrome trim gleamed with polish, and the white paint glistened with pristine cleanliness in the bright light. Her heart dropped at the sight of the beautiful vessel.

“Veni, Vidi, Stupidi,” she muttered, giving a twist to the Roman motto of “I came, I saw, I conquered.” Yep, she came, she saw, she was stupid. She admitted she didn’t know what she’d been expecting. A filthy, broken-down boat that
signified his lack of interest in it and therefore the woman he’d named it after? She should have known what she would find after he’d talked about the boat with such pride and caring. Obviously the softer side of Devlin was reserved for another woman.

She turned around and walked back to the stairs, cursing her curiosity yet again. Satisfying the thing
could
kill a person. She took two strides up the ramp, then glanced toward the top. She froze.

Leaning against the handrail at the beginning of the ramp was Devlin. Despite the baseball cap and dark wraparound sunglasses, she knew it was he. Every bone in her body, every nerve ending, responded instantly, as if a warning siren had just started wailing.

He was gazing down at her. And he was grinning.

Hilary drew in a deep breath to regain her control, then climbed the stairs to meet her doom.

Dev had known the moment he saw her who she was. It hadn’t mattered that she’d had her back to him. All his senses had come alive, and every muscle in his body had tensed at that first glance of the long line of her spine and the curve of her derriere. No woman caused that kind of reaction in him—except Hilary.

He had had to fight the urge to turn and walk away, not to let her see him. Hilary threatened him on more levels than he was prepared to fight.

And that kiss.…

That had scared the bejesus out of him. It had been too … sweet. Too damn innocent. He had
gotten himself back to the safety of home and hearth without getting himself into any more trouble, and he was staying there. The grandparents could fend for themselves as far as he was concerned. Hilary was off-limits.

Until she showed up today.

He watched her hesitate at the bottom of the ramp, then climb steadily toward him. She wore another one of those prissy suits and high heels, both of which were out of place in his environment. He could feel the grin on his face, and he was helpless to stop it. He decided he’d need every bit of bravado to keep her from discovering the turmoil she created inside him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, when she was nearly to the top. “What happened? Did you miss me?”

She faltered for a half-step, then straightened. She stepped off the ramp, walking right past him, then turned around. “I came to see if I could get some … crabs.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You drove all this way for crabs?”

“I need … fresh ingredients for a dinner I’m doing tonight.”

The glasses hid her eyes. He wished he could see them, see what emotions they revealed. “Couldn’t you have bought crabs live at your local market?” he asked. “Most sell them.”

“They wouldn’t be fresh enough,” she said, shrugging. “I need them straight out of the sea.”

He stared at her, oddly disappointed that she had come only for superfresh crabs. Then he shook his head. Perhaps these gourmet catering nuts would go to any extent to outdo themselves in the “fresh” department.

“Short of taking a boat out yourself, there isn’t anything down here,” he finally said. “Not at this time of day.”

Her mouth turned downward. “Oh.”

Primitive awareness shot through him at the way her lips pursed. Didn’t she know she nearly killed a man when she did that?

“You could go home by way of North Wildwood,” he said, dragging his gaze away from her mouth. “There’re a lot of crabbers up that end of the island. They keep their traps in the water all the time.”

She nodded and turned to leave. “Thank you—”

“Wait” He touched her hand. Her skin was soft, like velvet cream. Awareness frizzled along his nerve endings, seeming to suspend everything except the feel of her. He had to stop it immediately. He needed to tell her the deal was off. He brought himself under control and added, “Come down to the boat. I want to talk to you about something.”

“No!”

The vehemence in her voice surprised him.

“I mean,” she said quickly, “I have to get going. I have to find those crabs for tonight.”

He grinned. “Lucky crabs.” Then he got serious. “I’ll only take a few minutes. It’s important.”

She glanced around. “Well, can’t you say it here?”

He frowned. “I don’t need a damn audience. Now, what’s wrong with coming down to the boat?”

She looked around, then shrugged. “My shoes. The heels slip through the slats.”

“No problem. I’ll carry you.”

He began to reach for her, and she immediately
backed away, somehow flipping off her high heels in the process.

“Thank you, but no,” she said gravely. “I think I can manage it now.”

He pointed to the wooden ramp. “You’ll get splinters.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“Okay.” He waved a hand. “After you.”

She walked down the ramp much less gingerly than she’d come up it. He grinned to himself. She also walked straight to his boat without stopping. His grin widened. She might have come for crabs, but she’d certainly taken a good look around while she’d been down there.

“I see you know where the ‘Leakin’ Lena’ is,” he said, as he went aboard. Looking at the mess of chum buckets and discarded tackle left from the charter, he wished he hadn’t asked her down when the boat was dirty. Then he berated himself. What the hell did it matter what she might think of the
Madeline Jo
? He turned around and held out his hand. “Come aboard.”

She put her shoes back on, then took his hand. It was soft and small within his own. Damn, he thought. Why did every touch seem so … momentous? The boat rocked slightly as she stepped down onto the deck. Once aboard, he let go of her hand, both grateful and disappointed to do so.

“Coffee? Something cold?” he asked, suddenly feeling the odd urge to play host.

She shook her head and sat stiffly on one of the low, padded benches lining the sides of the stern. He had the feeling she was ready to run at any second. She’d never struck him as the nervous type, so why was she so jumpy now?

He mentally shook himself. He had more pressing
matters to talk about with her. He opened his mouth to tell her that he’d thought things through, that he figured they had accomplished pretty much all they could with the grandparents, that the whole damn thing was completely idiotic anyway, so he was quitting.

“How’s your grandfather?” he asked, then clamped his jaw shut. Where had that question come from?

“Fine, fine,” she said. “He complained about your grandmother the whole way home after we left the tea.”

“Good, good.” He lapsed into awkward silence and sat down in one of the big fishing chairs bolted to the deck. He swiveled the seat around to face her. She was as close to the three-step gangway as she could get. Now was the time to tell her, he thought. Now was the moment for supreme common sense. “Do you think he’d come out on the boat?”

Dev actually looked around to see who’d spoken. It couldn’t have been him. Absolutely couldn’t.

She shrugged, then crossed her arms tightly around her middle, as if she were ill. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say.”

“Well, maybe if we got them both out in the middle of the ocean, they’d be forced to deal with each other.”

Why was he talking about further meetings? Dev asked himself. It was as if his common sense had come right up to the starting gate, taken one look at Hilary, then said, “Nope, forget it.” His logic was there; he could feel it rattling around inside him. He just couldn’t seem to get it working right.

“It’s certainly worth a try,” she said. He realized
she’d been silent for a few moments and wondered what she’d been thinking.

“What is?” he asked.

“Getting the grandparents on the boat.”

“Oh.”

His brain felt dense, sluggish. Obviously he wasn’t thinking at all. He was too busy staring at her mouth. It was a perfect mouth, beautifully curved and soft, just right for kissing. He knew that.

This was insane, he thought. Women didn’t get to him this way. Never. He was supposed to be calling a halt to this ridiculous scheme, and instead he was drawing himself in deeper. Hilary said nothing. She looked as unhappy as he did. She didn’t like him. He knew that. Then why had she kissed him the way she had?

“Hey, Dev!”

He spun the chair in the direction of the shout. Morty Wilkins was coming in from the inlet’s waterways. The man cut back the motor on his little boat, bringing it to a near stop. It drifted on the current, rocking in the wake other boats were generating.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” Morty asked as Dev got up from the chair.

“None of your business,” Dev said. He leaned over the starboard side to check the bow of Morty’s boat. As he’d expected, it was filled with crab traps … and bushels of live crabs.