Castaway Cove (17 page)

Something she hadn’t known when she’d married him, since he’d neglected to mention wife number one, whom he’d married right out of college and who’d been there with him in those early days when he first started setting up his business. She’d even, Annie had found out during the divorce proceedings, been the first person to hold the job Annie had taken over, writing the press releases and working on crafting legislative bills.

“But I’ve come to realize that life’s often messy,” Annie said. “And random.”

“If that’s true, why did you blame yourself?”

“I wanted children. My husband had already raised a family with his previous wife. He had children older than I was when we married. If I hadn’t been secretly afraid that he would say he didn’t want another family, I would have, should have, brought it up before we got married. By the time I finally realized his mind was made up, he’d already found someone else.”

“His loss,” Mac said.

Damn. She was talking too much. Stalling for time, Annie took a bite of shrimp. “I’ve no idea why I’m telling you all this.”

“It’s called sharing. It’s what friends do.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t like to be more,” he said.

“Friends with benefits?” Didn’t it just figure?

“No, friends with chemistry, because although you’re unwilling to admit it for some reason, we seem to have a chemistry that rivals a supernova. Which is a really big responsibility.”

Being the terrible liar that she was, which had been one more reason she’d failed as a lobbyist’s wife, Annie wasn’t going to try to deny the chemistry. Even that first meeting at Still Waters, when she’d decided to dislike him, there’d been something. . . .

“Because of Emma,” she guessed.

Sedona had filled her in on what she knew about Mac Culhane, and apparently he hadn’t gone out with anyone since arriving in town. Annie suspected that was because he didn’t want his daughter to get emotionally involved with a woman only to have
her
disappear from their lives as well.

“No. Well, sure, Emma, too. But you can’t overlook that there could be repercussions for the entire world.”

She put down her fork and looked at him across the wooden tabletop. “The world?”

He had a way of turning even the most serious conversation to a lighter topic. Another thing that worked so well on the radio. And encouraged people to call in.

“Yeah. Didn’t you feel it? During that kiss? The ground rumbling beneath our feet?”

“No.”

He pointed his fork at her. “Liar,” he said without heat. “And my point is that if we can make the earth move, if I ever do get you naked and horizontal, we could risk blowing up the planet.”

“Does that line work for you very often?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried it before, because I’ve never felt it before. And
that
,”
he said, “isn’t radio guy hyperbole but the absolute truth. But if you want to keep things light, it’s your call.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Besides, you’ll be saving me money on power bills with all the cold showers I’ll be taking.”

The fact that he’d brought up the kiss had her sharing something she’d been thinking about ever since it had happened.

“Speaking as a friend, I have to admit I’m worried about spending the Fourth of July together.”

He put down the burger he’d been about to take another bite of. “You’re backing down?”

“Emma is obviously looking for another mother. I don’t want to get her hopes up, only to have them dashed.”

“We’ll be careful,” he promised. “Keep things casual around her. There’ll be no tonsil tangling in public with my daughter present. And my dad’ll be with us, so it’ll be more like a family outing than a date.”

“But we’re not a family.”

“Correction. A friendly gathering.”

“I suppose that sounds safe enough,” she replied.

“Emma’s my entire life right now,” he said, turning serious again. “I’ll admit to having some survivor guilt from Afghanistan. Nothing that serious, just your run-of-the-mill nightmares and stuff I’ve put in a box in my mind that I mostly keep locked.”

“That makes sense.” Especially since he’d admitted blaming himself.

There was a long moment of silence as he fiddled with his cutlery, as if trying to decide how much he was willing to share with her.

Then he said, “Oh, hell with it . . . What if all the women in town who are talking about us are right? What if we’re somehow letting Emma down, having her growing up just with two men in the house? What if little girls really do need a mom?”

“If that’s not a rhetorical question, you’re asking the wrong person,” Annie pointed out. “Because I wouldn’t know. Never having known my own mother. But I did have a handful of foster parents who were better than others, and I learned there are lots of ways women can influence a child’s life without being her parent. I think that saying about it taking a village is true. And you’ve certainly brought her to the right place.”

“Yeah.” His smile wasn’t as sexy as it had been. More reflective and a little sad, she thought. “This town is pretty much Mayberry on the bay. Which is why when Dad first suggested my bringing Emma back here to live, I jumped at the chance.”

He dragged a hand down his face.

“Hell, I’m sorry. And there I go again, slipping into a damn it’s-all-about-me mode. You’re right. You didn’t grow up with a mother
or
father, and look how great you turned out.”

He blew out a breath. “So next time I fall into old selfish habits, you have permission to just smack me.”

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Annie found herself laughing at that idea. “I’ve never hit anyone in my life; there’s not much likelihood of that happening. Besides,” she admitted, “given the choice, I’d much rather kiss you.”

Sedona
had been thinking more and more about her spreadsheet of qualifications that any future husband would have to possess. Perhaps Annie had a point. Perhaps it was a bit too stringent.

After all, who’d have thought Shelter Bay’s sheriff would now be living in matrimonial bliss with the town’s former bad boy? Or that J. T. Douchett, the college history teacher son of a fisherman, would marry an Irish movie star and screenwriter? And those were just two of the couples who’d become her close friends that she wouldn’t have thought stood a chance in the beginning.

Which was why, when a customer, who’d moved to Shelter Bay to work on a new start-up tech company asked her out to lunch at Lavender Hill Farm’s restaurant, she impulsively accepted.

Minutes into the lunch, Sedona was beginning to miss Dracula. At least that date, while admittedly weird and a bit creepy, had been unique.

She felt certain that her entrée was wonderful and delicious. Maddy Chaffee was incapable of preparing anything less than superb, which is why Sedona—who’d always preferred the precision of baking, where exact measurements not only mattered but were vital to success—had taken a few classes and was now actually, if she did say so herself, a fairly good home cook.

But it seemed that every time she was about to take a bite, the man across the table, who’d seemed so friendly, though a bit earnest, when he’d come into the bakery for his daily cupcake, would ask her yet another question.

“What’s your favorite movie?” he was asking now.

“Easy
. Truly, Madly, Deeply
. The way Alan Rickman comes back from the dead to help ease the pain of his grieving widow is probably the most romantic thing ever written. Which is why I always cry when she finally has to send him and the other ghosts away.”

“So, you’d consider yourself a romantic.”

There he went, typing away into that damn BlackBerry he’d put on the table as soon as they’d arrived.

“Not really. I’d consider myself a logical, rational woman who can also appreciate a hot guy, great acting, and a well-written romantic plot.”

More thumb tapping.

“What’s
your
favorite movie?” she asked, deciding to turn the tables on what had begun to feel more like an interrogation than a getting-to-know-you lunch.

“
The Goonies
,” he said without looking up from his typing.

“Isn’t that the one that was filmed up in Astoria?”

“Yeah. At least some of it was. A lot of the exterior scenes were shot down here and in Cannon Beach, but a bunch of us still get together in Astoria every year as a tribute.”

“Well. That’s a nice tradition.” If a bunch of crows were called a murder, and whales traveled in pods, she idly wondered what a gathering of nerds was called.

“It’s even better than
Revenge of the Nerds
,” he said, unknowingly validating her thought. “It’s based on an archetypal adventure like you find in all the video games today. There’s a map and keys to unlock the location of the treasure. It’s got pirates and the Goonies are on this quest to save their Goon Docks neighborhood from being turned into a golf course by the evil villains, which has them constantly having to invent cool stuff. . . .

“‘Hey, I’ve got a great idea, you guys!’” he said, raising his voice loud enough to have heads at nearby tables turning toward them. “‘Slick shoes!’”

When she looked at him uncomprehendingly, he explained, “It’s a line from the movie. The invention Data uses to shoot oil out of his shoes so they can escape the evil Fratellis. Though actually, the substance special effects created was made of glycerin, water, and food coloring. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Very.” Not.

“Yeah. Since Data didn’t have Q to supply him with fancy spy stuff like James Bond does, he was forced to invent his own gadgets, like slick shoes and Pinchers of Peril. Which may seem kind of silly, but hey, they end up saving lives when the Goonies go into the caves in search of One-Eyed Willie’s treasure, which ends up saving everyone’s homes.” He smiled for the first time since they’d sat down. “That movie changed my life.”

“That’s quite an impact for a single movie to make.”

“It’s true,” he said earnestly.

At least now he seemed engaged. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm wasn’t directed toward her.

“After watching it, I began taking stuff apart. It drove my mother crazy when I dismantled the toaster, the microwave, and the video recorder, but it’s how I learned how things work, which eventually is how I was able to invent a computer program that made me a multimillionaire before I was twenty.”

“And now you’re working on a new project.”

“Yeah. Some guys would probably just sit back and enjoy the bucks with yachts and private jets and all the women that are attracted to rich guys.”

“But not you.”

“I’m like a killer shark,” he confirmed. “I have to keep moving or I die.”

The way she was about to die of boredom.

“That’s all very fascinating,” she said. “I’ll have to try to catch it sometime.”

“I’ve got the expanded Blu-ray 25th Anniversary Edition,” he volunteered. “Maybe you can come over and we’ll watch it together. It’s got some awesome extras with
all seven
Goonies showing up to talk about the film.”

He frowned. “Though Sean Astin just walked out in the middle. Which was kind of weird. But maybe it was meant to be a secret to get people talking and wondering about. Like the giant killer octopus scene being deleted from the DVD.”

“I’m sort of in my busy season right now,” she hedged, having not a single clue what he was talking about. “What with all the tourists in town.”

“Maybe after they all leave. I probably watch it at least once a month anyway.”

As he went on asking more questions, methodically recording her responses, Sedona’s mind wandered and her gaze drifted back over to the table where Mac and Annie appeared to be having a fairly serious conversation. When it seemed to ease up, she caught Annie’s eye and pointed toward the restroom.

She might not own a pair of “slick shoes.” But it was definitely time to escape this seemingly endless lunch.

Sedona had n
o sooner followed Annie into the restroom than Maddy joined them. “I guess someone forgot to notify me that we were having a meeting?”

“I just had to get away,” Sedona said. “Before I screamed and everyone would probably think there was a mouse in the restaurant, or a fire, or something, and I’d have caused a stampede of lunch customers.”

“All leaving without paying their checks,” Maddy said. “Which would not have made me all that happy.” She locked the door, leaned against it, and folded her arms. “So, what’s going on? You”—she pointed at Annie—“looked about as serious as you have since I’ve known you.

“While you,” she said, turning toward Sedona, “appeared to be undergoing a tax audit.”

“Worse,” Sedona said. “I was being interviewed for this business the guy’s setting up.”

“So it wasn’t really a date? He’s not into you or your cupcakes?”

“No. Apparently all my customers who were betting on when he was going to ask me out had the wrong idea. He was merely trying to get up the nerve to ask me to lunch. The guy might be rich enough to buy the entire town, but believe me, communicating with the opposite sex isn’t high in his skill set.”

“He looks familiar,” Annie mused. “He’s not bad-looking. Sort of like Clark Kent before he changes into Superman.”

“Yep, he is good-looking. In a nerdish sort of way. Maybe you saw him on the cover of
Fortune
magazine a few months ago. He’s a member of that illustrious one percent of the wealthiest people in the country, having made gazillions in the tech business. He’s working on a new start-up. Which is the only reason he wanted me to have lunch with him.”

“He wanted financial advice?”

“Hardly. No, he’s doing this personality interview thing, then plugging all my answers into some computer program he’s developed that, according to him, will set people up with compatible partners. With, he assured me, ninety-nine-point-six percent accuracy.”

“Are you talking an online dating service?” Maddy asked.

“Exactly. He’s calling it ‘My Matrix Match.’ Apparently, although he’s been collecting e-mail interviews from subjects for the past year, I’m the first daughter of former flower children he’s run across.”

“Not surprising, in his line of work,” Maddy said.

“True. Plus, the fact that I made such a major change in occupations apparently adds a variable element outside the mean, to fit into his mathematical model.”

“Wow, and doesn’t that sound like a fascinating lunch conversation for a lovely summer day?” Maddy said.

“It seems that you being a CPA-turned-baker would make you more difficult to plug into any niche,” Annie mused.

“Possibly. But I really don’t care whether he can fit me into his metric niche. I just want to get out of here.” She looked pleadingly at Maddy. “Couldn’t you set off a fire alarm or something?”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Believe me, it is.” Sedona sighed, reached into her purse, took out a zippered mesh bag, and repaired her lipstick. “As much as I was really hoping for some of that seasonal marionberry ice cream you’ve got on the menu, I’m just going to go back to the table and tell him there was some sort of emergency at the bakery. If I have to spend another minute with Goonie Guy, I’ll go stark raving mad.”

“He likes
The Goonies
?” Annie asked.

“Apparently the movie changed his life. Why?” Her gaze sharpened. “Oh, don’t tell me—”

“I thought it was fun,” Annie said. “Except for the giant octopus at the end. Which made no sense to the story line.”

“That’s
exactly
what he said. Maybe we ought to switch lunch dates.”

“As much as I value our friendship, and you know I think of you as the sister I never had, I’ll pass on that.”

“I would too, in her place,” Maddy said. “After all, every woman in town has been throwing herself at Mac Culhane. And here our own Annie has him hooked.”

“It’s just lunch,” Annie insisted.

“You’ve always been the worst liar,” Sedona said. “I’ve no idea how you survived foster care. From the little you’ve said, life there sounds like the pilot for a
Survival of the Fittest
show on the Nature Channel. You two have a
lot
more than lunch going on.”

“She’s right,” Maddy agreed. “If the chemistry between the two of you had gotten any hotter, you would’ve set off the sprinkler system.”

Fortunately, Annie was saved from answering when the doorknob jiggled.

“I’ve got to get back to the kitchen,” Maddy said.

“I need to escape.” Sedona said. “Like yesterday.”

“And I’m going to go back and try to remember all the reasons I’m not going to have a hot, sexual fling with Midnight Mac,” Annie said.

“Good luck with that,” both women said in unison as Maddy unlocked the door and they all walked out past the waiting woman, who said, “Thank you,” to Annie.

“You’re welcome. For what?”

“They set up a pool down at Bennington Ford, where I work in customer relations, about when you two would first get together in public. I guessed here, for lunch. Today. Which means I win. So not only did you and hottie Midnight Mac pay for my lunch, I’m going to be able to buy that Coach bag I’ve been coveting at the outlet mall in Lincoln City.”

Apparently Mac hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her they were the topic du jour everywhere in town. She’d realized, early on, that everyone in Shelter Bay lived in each other’s pockets, which was mostly a good thing, since the flip side was that everyone cared about everyone else.

Until she’d made that late-night phone call to Midnight Mac, she’d managed to fly comfortably under the radar.

As she walked back to the table, suddenly aware that nearly every eye in the place was on her, Annie tried to wrap her mind around the idea that people were actually betting on her and Mac’s relationship.

Not that they actually had a relationship.

Damn.

As he looked up at her and smiled, Annie knew that Sedona was right. She
was
a lousy liar. Especially when she tried to lie to herself.