In McGillivray's Bed Page 11

  Grudgingly he stepped aside, and she nipped past him, wishing as she did so that she dared reach out and touch the muscular chest or press a kiss to the thin, hard line of his lips. The electricity she felt every time she saw him showed no signs of abating. On the contrary, it seemed especially strong this morning.

  She turned to look back. “Do you ever swim in the morning?”

  “Sometimes.” He was following her back to the house, but taking his time, not catching up.

  “Alone?” she asked innocently, with a light of laughter in her voice as his brows drew down. “I wasn’t alone the whole time,” she told him. “I ran into some boys playing soccer. Doing drills, they said, like Lachlan taught them. And then they came swimming with me. They told me there’s a wreck out beyond the reef. A really old ship, they said, with cannons.” It sounded marvelous.

  McGillivray nodded. “Yeah. It was wrecked about three hundred years ago during a storm. It was supposed to be coming through the narrows and got washed up against the reef.”

  She climbed the steps, then turned to wait for him. “Have you ever seen it?”

  “Of course. Everybody’s seen it.”

  “I haven’t. I’ve never seen a sunken ship before.” She looked past him toward the ocean in the distance. “The reef’s not that far,” she said speculatively.

  “Too far to swim,” McGillivray said flatly, “and way too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Syd frowned. “Why?”

  “Remember your friend, the shark?” A grin slashed across his face.

  “But you said everybody went.”

  “In boats. And they don’t go alone.”

  “Fine. Maybe Tommy and Lorenzo could take me. They were two of the boys playing soccer,” she explained.

  “I know who they are. Tommy is Fiona’s nephew.”

  “Oh. Right. Small island. Everyone knows everyone else. I keep forgetting. Sorry.” She felt foolish then and turned to hurry into the house.

  “I could take you,” McGillivray said.

  She spun around. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? Probably be a good idea,” he said gruffly. “Since we’re a ‘couple.’” His mouth twisted as he said the last word.

  Syd’s joy faded a little at his attitude. But not much. She was having too good a morning to let him ruin it with his grouchiness. She nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “Then we could tell everyone we’d done it. Together.”

  “We won’t have to tell anyone,” McGillivray said with grim certainty. “They’ll know.”

  HE WAS, Syd discovered, absolutely right.

  An hour later, when she was walking into town to start her job, Miss Saffron hailed her as she passed. “I hear you goin’ to be workin’ for Erica,” she called.

  Syd smiled at the other woman’s question. “That’s right.”

  “You good at all them numbers?” Miss Saffron asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe you talk to my nephew, Otis, at the hardware store. He need somebody who do numbers. On a computer, yes?”

  “Yes. I’ll talk to him,” Syd promised.

  Miss Saffron smiled. “Good. So, when you an’ Hugh goin’ out to see that ol’ wreck?”

  Now Syd stared in astonishment. “How did you know we talked about the wreck?” she demanded. She’d left Hugh eating breakfast at the house an hour ago. She was sure he hadn’t picked up the phone and called Miss Saffron to tell her anything of the sort. He seemed to think the islanders knew far too much already.

  Miss Saffron shrugged ample shoulders. “Just makes sense. Lorenzo say he tell you ’bout it this mornin. Say he take you.” She grinned broadly, then shook her head. “But I tell him, no chance. Ain’t nobody takin’ you nowhere but our Hugh.”

  And Syd smiled, nodding slowly. “Right,” she murmured. “That’s right.”

  “Hurry on now. Erica be waitin’.”

  Dismissed, Syd gave Miss Saffron a wave as she started once more down the hill. On the corner she passed the hardware store. Otis was sweeping the sidewalk out front.

  “Hey, there, Hugh’s girl,” he called to her, “wouldn’t mind talkin’ to you.”

  HUGH’S girl.

  That’s what they were calling her. Everywhere he went that morning, he heard about his new girlfriend.

  “Hugh’s girl,” Amby said. “She’s pretty as a sunset.”

  “Hugh’s girl,” Otis said, “is smart as a whip.”

  “Hugh’s girl—” everybody made sure they told him “—is just about perfect.”

  Hugh wasn’t surprised. And he didn’t protest. It was, after all, what he wanted them all to think.

  But all the same, it was getting under his skin.

  He was glad they liked her, of course. He liked her. Too damn much. He didn’t want everybody else thinking she was wonderful, too. Then, when she left, they’d really be thinking he was a loser.

  Hell. Oh, hell.

  Which was why he strode into Lachlan’s office at the Moonstone that afternoon.

  “Hey, there.” Lachlan looked up from his desk and grinned. “I like your girlfriend.”

  “You and the whole damn world.”

  Lachlan blinked. He tipped back in his chair and regarded his brother curiously. “That’s a bad thing?”

  “Of course not.” Hugh cracked his knuckles, prowled the room, craned his neck to look out the window to see who was walking along the beach.

  “She’s got a lot of really good ideas about island development,” Lachlan said.

  “She could run it with one hand tied behind her back,” Hugh agreed grimly.

  Lachlan grinned. “Maybe we should elect her mayor.”

  “Like hell!”

  “Want to keep her home all for yourself?”

  “No! Yes! Oh, cripes. I don’t know why I even came over here.”

  “Neither do I,” Lachlan said. “But it’s always a pleasure,” he added piously, still grinning.

  “Shut up.” Hugh did another lap of the office.

  Lachlan, watching him, shook his head. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” He sounded cheerful.

  “Got what?”

  His brother rolled his eyes. “That’s right, deny it. Is she giving you trouble?” he asked almost sympathetically.

  Hugh slowed his pacing and shrugged. “It’s not that,” he said. But he couldn’t exactly say what it was, either.

  “Where’d you meet her?”

  “I fished her out of the drink.”

  Lachlan laughed. “Whatever works.”

  “I’m not kidding!”

  Lachlan tipped his chair forward again. “Did I say you were?” Blue eyes exactly the same color as his own stared back at Hugh. “When a guy finds the right woman, he does whatever he’s gotta do.”

  Hugh snorted. “Like you had to do anything to get Fiona.” She’d been sitting here waiting for Lachlan for years, and other than her brief stint in Italy she hadn’t any intention of going anywhere.

  “You’d be surprised,” Lachlan said dryly over steepled fingers.

  Hugh’s eyes widened. “I would,” he agreed. “Tell all.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “Not on your life. I got my woman. That’s all I’m going to say.” He met Hugh’s eyes again. “Except that it’s worth it, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you keep yours.”

  “I don’t have her yet,” Hugh said. “It might not work out.”

  Lachlan scowled. “Why the hell not?”

  Hugh shrugged. “We have to both want the same thing. We might not.” He might as well lay the groundwork for when she would leave.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Lachlan protested. “You’re the best guy in the world—besides me.” He grinned.

  Hugh grinned back, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Even so. It might not work out. I’m staying here. It’s a given. She might not. I can’t force it. And neither can you,” he warned his brother, who was likely to try.

  “But she says she w
ants to,” Lachlan argued.

  “Now,” Hugh agreed. “Who’s to say how she’ll feel a ways down the road.”

  SHE felt more and more at home.

  As the days passed, she settled in. She worked at Erica’s two mornings a week, at Otis’s one. She spent the other mornings helping Molly at Hugh’s shop doing the accounting and the billing.

  “It’s a waste of your talent,” McGillivray told her.

  “But it makes me happy,” she told him.

  He wasn’t convinced, but other than rearranging the cells in his brain, she didn’t see how she could convince him. She did think that he realized she liked other parts of life on Pelican Cay.

  He’d taken her out to see the wreck one afternoon. He’d begun the expedition in his usual grumpy fashion, but he’d responded to her determined questions, and he’d been patience personified when he’d taught her to snorkel. And after, when she’d told him it was one of the best days of her life, he’d actually looked pleased before he’d shrugged and turned away.

  That had been a letdown. But Syd was accustomed to disinterest. Her father had been a past master at it. His, she’d learned long ago, was the real thing.

  McGillivray’s wasn’t.

  It was studied disinterest. Determined disinterest.

  How did she know?

  Because sometimes when he thought she wasn’t looking, she caught him watching her, studying her almost. And when she turned then and spoke to him, he would quickly look away.

  Why?

  He liked women. They’d established that the first evening. He liked her. On a purely physical level he’d been attracted to her right from the start. They’d established that, too. And though he liked to pretend she annoyed him even now, she dared to think he actually enjoyed her company.

  If he didn’t, why was he getting up to go swimming with her in the mornings now? And why did he let her come along when he walked Belle on the beach at night? And why did he sit around in the evenings and talk to her? He knew more about the history of Pelican Cay than anyone on the island, she was sure of it. She’d asked a lot of people a lot of questions. No one knew more than Hugh.

  At first he stopped himself whenever he began to talk about the early days, saying, “It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t be interested.”

  But if she persisted and asked questions, he always answered. She could always get him talking again, telling her about the island’s past, its pirates and its politicians, its rascals and its rogues, the swashbuckling seafarers who had long ago called Pelican Cay home. The island and its stories were in his blood, she could tell.

  And as the days passed, the island and its stories—and Hugh McGillivray—were in hers.

  She felt a connection to him she’d never felt to any other man. It was electric and it was sexual, no doubt about that. She hadn’t even had to have made love with him to know that. But it was also something more.

  He was a kindred spirit. She sensed it. He was a friend—when he wasn’t trying to deny it.

  He could be her soul mate. And there was a mind-boggling thought. But it was true—all the things she’d always wanted in a man and had begun to think she’d never find, she was discovering in Hugh McGillivray.

  But McGillivray was keeping her at a distance.

  Why?

  Because he didn’t trust her. That much she understood at once. He knew who she was, where she had come from—and he didn’t trust that she would stick around. He didn’t trust that her mornings as an accountant-bookkeeper would satisfy her.

  And in the long run, he was probably right.

  Well, fine. The jobs had been a stopgap measure, a means of paying her way, of making sure she was self-sufficient. She could do more. Right here on the island she could do more. She was sure of it.

  She’d learned a lot from Hugh about the island’s history. She’d learned a lot from the islanders about its assets. She’d also learned from her earlier work how to make the best of what she was given. She’d tossed out some ideas to Lachlan that first evening. They had come off the top of her head. Now she had more.

  She picked up the phone and called him. “Lachlan? Sydney, here. I’ve been thinking. I have something I’d like to talk to you about. I wonder if you’d have time to see me tomorrow morning.”

  “How about lunch?” he suggested. “At Beaches? Dave Grantham came in this afternoon. He said he’d talked to you once on the phone. I know he’d like to meet you again.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll meet you there.”

  She hung up, pleased. One step toward her future had been accomplished. Tomorrow she would take the second.

  But first she had the past to deal with.

  “HI, DAD. It’s Sydney,” Syd said into the phone. “I just wanted to tell you I’m resigning.” Her voice sounded firm and resolute and she was glad. It was the first time she’d ever told her father something he didn’t want to hear.

  “Sydney?” Simon St. John sounded momentarily mystified. “Oh, Margaret,” he corrected her. “Good to hear from you. And of course you’re resigning,” he went on cheerfully. “I told Roland you wouldn’t want to continue working after you were married.”

  So he had known. She’d always held out hope that the idea had been Roland’s alone. Now she felt a hollow ache in her midsection. But it didn’t hurt the way it would have a week before. It simply stiffened her resolve.

  “I’m not married, Dad,” she said calmly.

  There was a moment’s stunned silence.

  Then, “What? Not married? What do you mean? Roland said you and he were getting married after the merger. Two mergers, he said.” Simon’s voice went from pleased as he reported Roland’s witticism to perplexed as he tried to reconcile Syd’s denial of it. “What happened? Why not? Don’t tell me you’re dithering? You were never the dithering sort, Margaret.”

  “I’m not the dithering sort now, Dad. I didn’t marry Roland because I didn’t want to.”

  “But he said you would!”

  “He was mistaken.”

  “Put him on the phone,” Simon demanded. “I want to talk to him. Now.”

  “I’m sorry. He’s not here.”

  “What do you mean not there? Where are you, Margaret?”

  “I’m in the Bahamas. I don’t know where Roland is. But I just called to tell you I’m staying. I don’t expect you to understand. But this is something I have to do.”

  “Staying? For how long? For heaven’s sake, Margaret! Have you lost your mind?”

  “No. I think I finally found it,” Syd said, and knew the truth of the words she spoke.

  “Have you had an accident? Have you fallen and hit your head?”

  “No, Dad. I haven’t fallen. I’m fine. In fact, I’ve never been better.”

  “Then, I don’t understand.” He sounded almost petulant now. “Why isn’t Roland with you? What’s going on? I thought you were on your honeymoon!”

  “No honeymoon. No Roland. I have to go, Dad. I just wanted you to know I’m fine. Tell Roland ‘thank you’ when he calls. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Tell Roland ‘thank you’?” His voice was rising. “For what? Now you listen to me, Margaret—”

  But Syd had listened to him far too long already. “Bye, Dad. I love you.”

  And she hung up.

  “YOU’RE what?” Hugh stared at Syd when she met him at the door of the kitchen, a bottle of champagne in her hand. He shook his head, certain he hadn’t heard her right.

  “I’m the new coordinator of the Pelican Cay Development Organization,” she repeated, which was more or less what he thought she’d said the first time. She was beaming and waving the champagne.

  “Coordinator of the Pelican Cay Development Organization? What the bloody hell is that?”

  He’d been counting the days until he could tell her their charade was over, that she could pack her bags and head for the big city and bright lights, certain that she’d be happy to leave him and the island and her humdrum account
ing jobs.

  And now she was what?

  “It’s a new position,” she admitted. “Just formed. Just funded actually. But it’s real.”

  “Says who?”

  “Your brother, for one. And Lord Grantham. Lachlan and David and I had lunch today.”

  He might have known! Damn his meddling, interfering brother anyway!

  “The organization exists. You must know that.”

  “They hold bake sales,” Hugh said scathingly. “And they sell used paperbacks for the library.”

  “Well, now they’re doing more than that,” Syd said stiffly. “It doesn’t pay much yet. But that’s okay because I can live on savings for a while. I will get a basic salary. Enough to live on. But it’s a place to start. To develop. To make a commitment,” she said, looking straight at him. “And when things get rolling, it will be terrific.”

  Bloody hell. Hugh pushed past her into the kitchen. She’d set the table with a tablecloth and candles. Like some damned celebration!

  Syd followed him in. “We’re going to put Pelican Cay on the map,” she told him. “We’re going to develop the tourism industry, target suitable U.S. and European markets, manage growth, involve the entire community and make sure that the island thrives without being overwhelmed.”

  Hugh stared at her. “We are? Or you are?”

  “All of us,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze. She ran her tongue over her lips. He couldn’t help noticing them even though he jerked his gaze away. “I’m the facilitator,” she continued. “That means I smooth the way.” She explained the term as if he was a grade-school kid.

  “I know what it means,” Hugh told her through his teeth. “You said you would leave.”

  “I said we would both know when it was right,” she corrected.

  “It’s right,” he told her. He’d been living in some sort of fool’s paradise all week. Spending time with her, going swimming with her, taking walks with her, talking for hours with her. Pretending they were a couple! And it was killing him.

  He ground his teeth. “When you and I split, you said you’d leave. You agreed.”

  “We haven’t split.”