Sunset In Central Park (16 page)

“Who said I wanted to be on my own?”

“I know you. You were stressed about your evening, and when you’re stressed your response is to lock yourself away and read or fiddle with your plants. But you’re here. With me. Because you know I’m upset. You’re the best friend on the planet.”

Frankie’s throat thickened. “Friend love is different.”

“Not really. Romantic love should be supported by a backbone of strong friendship. A man can be the best kisser in the world, but I wouldn’t want to be with him if he wasn’t my best friend. Listen to me, getting all emotional. Your least favorite thing. You see what I mean? You’re brave. You face what needs to be faced even when you don’t like the way it looks. Like my face when I cry.”

“Don’t cry.” Frankie’s discomfort had nothing to do with
the fact that she was sitting on a pile of Eva’s clothes. Her friend had placed her on a pedestal and she was going to fall hard.

“It’s late. You should probably go to bed.”

Frankie looked at her friend, remembering the times Eva had been there for her. “Have you got the ingredients for that amazing hot chocolate you make?”

“Yes. Do you want to take a mug downstairs?”

“I was thinking I might stay the night. In Paige’s room.” Frankie said it casually. “It would be fun. You have whipped cream?”

“I always have whipped cream. You never know when you might need it.”

“Tonight is one of those times.”

“We could curl up and watch a movie together.” Eva brightened and then subsided. “Are you sure you’re not doing this for me? Because truly I’m fine. and—”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me. I don’t want to be on my own.”

It was true.

She didn’t want to be on her own or she’d start panicking about her upcoming trip to Puffin Island.

Of course she could have told Eva that she’d misunderstood and that she had no intention of ever visiting the place again, but Eva was only just holding it together.

Frankie had no idea why Eva had chosen her as a role model. All she knew was that if she was a source of inspiration, then she’d better do something inspiring and brave.

M
att was hauling the first log seat into place on the roof terrace when Frankie planted herself in front of him the following day.

“So this trip to Puffin Island—” The words tumbled out like a river in full flow. “Not that I’m telling you I’m coming because I still think it’s a crazy idea, but if I
did
come, where would I stay? It’s all right for you, you can stay with your parents, but the moment people recognize me they will be closing doors in my face and locking up their husbands and sons. I’ll probably have to camp in a field so I need to know what to take.”

Matt eased himself upright.

She’d clearly been stewing on it all night, but he sensed the shift from a definite no to a maybe. He wondered what had made her change her mind.

“You won’t be camping in a field and I have no intention of staying with my parents.” He didn’t say that was because what he planned to do to Frankie definitely couldn’t be done in front of his parents. “Why don’t you leave the accommodation issue to me? There are rooms at the Ocean Club. Ryan and Emily have a few places reserved for people who don’t live on the island.”

“What does that mean? That we’d be staying together?”

“That’s what I’d like.” He saw something that looked like panic flicker in her eyes. “What’s the problem, Frankie? You don’t like my company?”

“You know I like your company.”

“That’s all that matters. The rest can take care of itself.”

The tension between them was off the scale. Moonlight or sunlight, sunrise or sunset, it was always there, the blood-pumping chemistry.

“You make it sound simple, but it isn’t.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I don’t know what this is, Matt. Is it friendship? Is it dating? Is it a weekend of—what?”

“Do we have to define it that specifically?”

“Yes. If I know what’s expected, I’ll know if I have the skills to be what you want me to be. Generally it’s a good idea in life not to take on things that play to your weaknesses.”

She made it sound like a job interview.

“You don’t need skills to spend a weekend with me, Frankie. And I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself.”

“That doesn’t usually work out so well.”

“It works for me.”

She bit her lip. “What’s the plan?”

“We’ll arrive Friday morning and visit the site so that we can take some measurements and soil samples. Then
Saturday is the wedding. I thought we could have a day to ourselves Sunday and come back that evening.” He tried to make it sound low-key and relaxed but she still looked anxious.

“A day to ourselves? What would we be doing?”

“If I said we’d be laughing, enjoying plenty of interesting conversation and an indecent amount of mind-blowing sex, what would you say?”

Color streaked across her cheeks. “I’d say the first two sound fine.”

“You have something against mind-blowing sex that I need to know about?”

“Yes! Starting with the fact that I don’t even know what that is! I told you—sex isn’t really my thing. If that’s why you’re inviting me, you should take someone else.” She spoke in a breathy, nervous voice that connected with something deep inside him.

“Frankie—”

“You don’t believe me, so I’m going to prove it to you.” Without warning she snatched her hands out of her pockets and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

Then she tugged him toward her, rose on tiptoe and kissed him.

Shock froze his system. His mind went blank. The world around him faded to nothing more than white noise.

For a split second he stood there, absorbing the fact that he was finally kissing Frankie. Or rather, she was kissing him.

He felt her start to pull away and cupped her face in his hands, keeping her mouth locked against his. No way was he letting her go.
No way was this ending.
Desire exploded through him, raw and real, and he slid one hand down her
back and pulled her against him. His other hand he pushed into the soft mass of her hair, holding her head steady for his kiss. She might have started it, but now he was taking over.

Her mouth was soft and warm and he felt her melt into him. He sensed her uncertainty, but he also felt the hunger in her. A hunger that matched his. Raw sexual desire rocked his balance and he slammed his hand against the nearest solid surface, a fence panel waiting for one of his clients in Brooklyn. He clamped his hand low on her hips and pressed her close to the hard throb of his erection. He wanted her with an intensity he’d never felt before. They were both fully clothed and yet somehow this kiss was the single most erotic experience of his life.

He had no idea how it would have ended had the blare of a car horn from the street below not brought them back to the real world.

She dragged her mouth from his and stared at him, her breathing shallow.

He hoped she wasn’t expecting him to speak because right at that moment there was only one part of his body that appeared to be functioning.

She touched her fingers to her lips and took a step back, a move that pushed her back against the fence. “What did you do that for?”

It was a struggle to focus. “What?”

“Kiss me. You kissed me!”

“Honey, you kissed me.”

“But you kissed me back.” She dragged her hand through her hair and then lifted it from the back of her neck, as if she was too hot.

He sympathized. If he was any hotter he’d combust.

“I’ve always considered kissing to be a pastime at its best when it’s a shared experience.”

“I wanted to get it out of the way.”

As far as he was concerned all they’d achieved was throwing lighter fuel on a burning fire, but he was willing to play along.

“I guess we did that.”

“Yes. So now we know.”

“Yes.” His eyes dropped to the soft curve of her mouth. “Now we know.”

She eyed him. “Just to be clear, if our relationship is a Monopoly board, we haven’t passed Go.”

“But at least we’re not in jail. That’s always a good thing.” Although if you could earn yourself jail time for bad thoughts, he would be heading for a long stint inside.

“We bought you something.” Paige placed four bags on her desk and Frankie roused herself from daydreams about Matt.

That kiss had been nothing like she’d expected. Nothing like anything she’d experienced before. She’d started it, but somehow the balance of power had shifted instantly. There was no doubt that Matt had been the one in charge. She was trying to work out how that could have happened but the whole thing was a dizzying blur. Never in a million years would she have thought kissing could have felt so—so—intense. She could still feel it. The firm pressure of his hands on her face, the skill of his mouth, the sheer heat of it. It had been a discovery, a lightning bolt—

Crap, she was starting to sound like Eva.

Giving herself a mental slap, she reached for the bags. “Those look expensive.”

“It’s a thank-you for all your hard work getting this company off the ground.”

“You worked hard, too.”

“I might have treated myself to the odd thing.” Paige grinned and Eva balanced on the edge of Frankie’s desk, her blue skater skirt riding up her thighs.

“Open them. We tried to compromise between what you feel comfortable in and what we think you’d look great in.”

“Is this a makeover?”

“It’s a thank-you.” Eva pushed the bags toward her. “I was feeling really crappy the other night and you helped me. I know you hate deciding what to wear, so I hope I’ve made it easy for you. There’s an outfit for traveling, which can be easily smartened up when you go to see your client. Then there’s something to wear to the wedding and something to wear on the beach.”

“I hadn’t decided what to wear to the wedding.” Frankie wrestled through tissue paper and extracted a feather-light length of slippery emerald green silk. “It’s a dress? I don’t—”

“It’s not a dress. It’s a jumpsuit and it’s going to look stunning on you. It might be windy and you don’t want to spend your whole time trying to stop the other guests seeing your underwear. And on that note I took the liberty of buying you a few more personal things.”

“You bought me lingerie?”

“If you have an accident and you’re taken into the emergency department I don’t want your mismatching underwear to distract them from saving you. And as I was the one who threw away that gray abomination you called a nightdress, I figured I owed you.”

Lingerie.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew why Eva had bought her lingerie, and it wasn’t because she wanted her to look good in the event of an encounter with the emergency services.

She wanted her to look good in the event of an encounter with Matt.

Although that might be a total car crash, too.

If anything, the kiss had made things more terrifying, not less, because now she had further to fall. The ultimate disappointment when they finally made it to bed would be crushing.

She tucked the silk jumpsuit back into the bag and peered into the others. “You two have spent a fortune.”

“Doing something scary is always easier if you’re looking good. I also bought you a new sweater.”

“Are we bankrupt?”

“No, we’re doing well.” Paige handed her a small bag. “I know you hate lipstick, but this is so neutral it barely counts. It will look good with the jumpsuit for the wedding. Summery and light.” She paused. “We’re proud of you.”

Frankie felt like a fraud. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re the one who is doing it, and we think you’re incredible. You’re strong and fearless.” Paige gave her a hug and then pulled away as Frankie’s phone rang. “You’d better get that.”

Fearless?

They had no idea.

She’d never been more scared of anything in her life, but whether it was the thought of being with Matt or the thought of returning to Puffin Island, she didn’t know. The whole thing was now a tangled mess of stress in her head.

Needing to escape, Frankie snatched up her phone and walked out of the office.

Paige flopped into her chair. “Do you think she’s going to wear it?”

“I don’t know. I hope so because Matt is going to need therapy if she wears something like that gray T-shirt to bed.”

“He’s so crazy about her, I have a feeling he wouldn’t care.”

Eva gave her a dark look. “You didn’t see the T-shirt. Even Marilyn Monroe couldn’t have carried that off.”

T
here were two ways to reach Puffin Island. One was to take the ferry that ran regularly between the island and the mainland, and the other was to catch the short flight across the bay.

Because they only had a long weekend, Matt opted for the flight. “Ryan arranged it. He pointed out that the traffic will be bumper to bumper on the coast road in the summer, and he’s right. And we need to arrive in time to see the garden.”

Frankie didn’t care if they traveled by donkey. It was the destination that bothered her.

She walked toward the small aircraft, feeling sicker and sicker, wondering if it was too late to change her mind.

She no longer cared about being Eva’s inspiration. All she cared about at that moment was not inflicting this on herself.

Only a narrow stretch of water stood between her and her past.

She was so anxious she’d even stopped thinking about the kiss.

The pilot’s name was Zachary Flynn. Eva would have observed that he was “hot,” if in a slightly dangerous way. The only thing Frankie cared about was that she’d never met him before.

For her, that was the key factor.

At least he was unlikely to open the door of the plane and drop her into the choppy waters of Penobscot Bay. If she didn’t know him, then he couldn’t bear a grudge.

The Cessna seaplane was perfect for short flights between the islands, and Frankie stared down at the glittering expanse of the bay, the yachts, the islands with fishing boats bobbing in sheltered harbors.

She was conscious of Matt sitting beside her, powerful and real. At one point he reached across and gave her hand a squeeze in a gesture that was designed to be reassuring, but instead made nerves spring to life in her stomach.

She knew he was intending to take their relationship to another level. Unfortunately, she knew that the moment he laid a finger on her the level they’d hit would be the basement not the penthouse. True, the kiss hadn’t quite turned out the way she’d anticipated but she was under no illusions about the rest of it.

But there was no time to worry about that now because she could see the island and the runway in the distance.

She glanced around anxiously as they landed, half expecting to see a posse of locals holding a banner saying Leave Our Island, but there was no one except the staff who manned the small airstrip during the peak summer months.

“Car rental is all fixed.” Zach tossed Matt a set of keys. “It’s the silver one at the far end of the parking lot. Be careful as you drive the last half mile to my place. Camp Puffin is heaving with people, but you’ll be fine once you reach Seagull’s Nest. The place is fully stocked, but if there’s any particular brand of beer you like you might want to pick it up on your way through.”

Frankie hauled her bag over her shoulder and she and Matt walked toward the car. “We’re staying in the camp?”

“Zach owns a cabin that he rents out. It’s right on the water. I thought you might prefer to be away from town.”

She did prefer it. Somewhere away from town and away from all the people she was dreading meeting sounded good. She was touched that he’d been so thoughtful. “Where does Zach live if he doesn’t stay in the cabin?”

“In Castaway Cottage.”

Everyone born on the island knew Castaway Cottage. It nestled in the perfect curve that was Shell Bay, looking out toward Puffin Rock and the wild Atlantic Ocean beyond.

Frankie had lost count of the number of hours she’d spent on that beach on her own, dreaming of climbing onto a raft and escaping. “I knew the woman who used to live there. Kathleen Forrest. She died a few years ago.”

Matt slid into the driver’s seat and Frankie into the passenger’s. “How did you meet her?”

Memories tumbled down on her, as if she’d opened a cupboard that was too full. “The day my Dad walked out, I walked out, too.” And she still felt guilty about that. Her mother had told her afterward that half the island had been out looking for her. “I ran all the way along the coast path and ended up at Shell Bay. I was the only one there, or at least I thought I was. I cried myself dry and then Kathleen
appeared with a flask of hot chocolate. She wrapped me in a blanket and took me back to the cottage.” Frankie frowned. “I remember hesitating in the doorway and muttering something about her being a stranger. I’ve never forgotten her answer.”

“Which was?”

“‘On Puffin Island there is no such thing as a stranger, only a friend.’”

Matt nodded. “That sounds like something she would say.”

“She called someone on the town council to let them know I was safe. They’d all been out looking for me.”

“Why did you run in the first place?”

Frankie stared out the window. She’d never told anyone the reason. “I guess it was shock.” That part wasn’t a lie. She
had
been in shock. Panicked and confused. Not only had her father walked out, she’d been put in a hideous position and had no idea how to handle it.

“Your mom must have been worried sick.” Matt glanced at her and something in his searching gaze made her wonder whether he’d guessed there was more to the story.

“She was too shocked about my dad to be thinking much about me.” Frankie tried to shake off the past. “So where are we going first?”

“If you’re in the mood for talking about apple trees, I thought we’d go and do the site visit. Then we can call in at the harbor and pick up some supplies on our way to the cabin.”

Harbor Stores was the center of island gossip. She wondered if he’d think she was a coward if she stayed in the car for that part and let him pick up what they needed.

He drove like a local, taking back roads that avoided the
center of town and finally ended up on a road that skirted the forest.

The couple who wanted the apple orchard gave them a warm welcome. They had a pitcher of iced tea waiting and Frankie sipped her drink while she and Matt studied the garden and discussed the options.

Although Matt wasn’t a trained horticulturist, he had plenty of ideas and experience, and one big advantage. He’d grown up on Puffin Island. He understood the climate and the challenges of planting in this environment.

Two hours later they climbed back into the car and Matt drove toward the harbor.

“That was useful. It’s a comparatively sheltered garden. It will be easier than I thought.”

“We are going to need to spend some time preparing the soil first.”

“Agreed.” They were approaching the road that led past the harbor, and Frankie shrank down slightly in her seat. She wasn’t ready to see people. She hadn’t worked out how to handle it.

Matt pulled into a parking space and turned to look at her. “I can go on my own if that’s what you’d prefer.”

Then she’d have to confess to Paige and Eva that she’d stayed in the car.

“No. Let’s do this.” She reached down to release her seat belt and his hand covered hers.

“You’re not going to war, Frankie.” His voice was soft. “Most of the people in there won’t remember anything about that time. Half of them probably don’t know your mother.”

“Let’s hope not, otherwise I’ll be hiding behind you.” She tried to make a joke of it. “Good thing you have broad shoulders.”

She walked into Harbor Stores feeling as if she was walking the plank. The bell on the door sounded, announcing her arrival, and heads turned.

Here we go.

Her face burned and then she felt Matt’s arm curve around her waist protectively.

“Relax.” He murmured the word in her ear. “Almost everyone in here is a tourist. What do you want to eat tonight? Before you answer I need to warn you that if I’m cooking, you have a choice of three things.”

“Three? That’s all?” She was relieved to have an excuse to focus on him. “Spell it out.”

“Pizza, pasta and duck legs in orange sauce.”

“That’s fancy.”

He gave her a wicked smile. “It’s the dish I cook when I want to get laid.”

“Does it work?”

“I guess we’ll find out later.”

Her heart skipped a beat and for a moment she forgot about the locals. “I don’t want to ruin your record, so let’s go with pizza.”

They made their choices and took the basket to the checkout. Frankie was beginning to think that Matt might be right and that this wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d feared, when she turned and bumped into an elderly lady carrying a bag of apples. Her hair was as white as the snow that blanketed the island during the long winter months; her skin was wrinkled and paper thin, but her blue eyes were sharp and alert.

Hilda Dodge.

Recognizing her immediately, Frankie turned to make for the door but the woman shot out a hand and caught her arm.

“It’s Francesca, isn’t it?”

Crap.
Coming back here had been a mistake.
A big fat mistake.

Hilda had lived next to the Beckets. She’d probably seen Frankie’s mother climbing in and out of the bedroom window. And now they were going to talk about it in glorious detail. They were going to reminisce, right next to the vegetable aisle, where no doubt the color of her cheeks would make the heap of glossy vine tomatoes look washed out.

“It’s Frankie.”

“We haven’t seen your face here for—” Hilda’s head bobbed as she did the calculation “—it must be almost ten years.”

Ten years, one month, six days and five hours.

“I went to college.”
I ran away and never came back.
That’s how strong and brave she was.

“I remember you well. You, Paige and that other girl—pretty blonde who lived with her grandmother—”

“Eva.”

“That’s her. Eva. My memory isn’t what it was. The three of you were thick as thieves. And you were so shy.”

“Excuse me?”

“So many times I tried to talk to you after that business with your parents, but you always crossed the road so that you wouldn’t have to speak to me.” Hilda leaned in and lowered her voice. “I was the same age as you when my parents divorced. Such a shock. Like coming home and finding someone has knocked your house down. In an instant, everything you’re used to has gone. Vanished.”

It had felt exactly like that. As if her world had collapsed.

Frankie stared at her. “You—I assumed—”

“I wanted you to know that you had our support. Everyone on the island felt the same way. When you went missing
that day—” Hilda’s eyes filled and she patted Frankie’s arm “—we all went out looking for you. Everyone. We searched the fields and the forest. We were all praying you hadn’t gone into the water. When Kathleen called to say she had you safe in the cottage—well, a few prayers of thanks were said that night.”

They’d said prayers of thanks?

“I—”

“We’ve missed seeing you around, although I understand why you needed to leave this place and have a fresh start. Too many memories here.” Hilda gave her a quick hug. “Still, it’s all behind you now. And you’re home, that’s the main thing.”

Home?
“I live in New York now, Hilda. That’s my home.”

“Once an islander, always an islander. You can’t get away from it, pumpkin. Enjoy your stay. The whole island is excited about the wedding.”

In a daze, Frankie let Matt guide her to the door and back to the car.

He pulled out of the space, avoiding the line of traffic queuing for the ferry.

Frankie’s head was still spinning. She sat in silence, processing what had just happened. “Aren’t you going to say it?”

“Say what?”

“I told you so. You told me it was in my head. People crossing the road.”

“First, I grew out of saying ‘I told you so’ when I was around nine years old, and second, I don’t think it was all in your head. I love this place, but I’m the first to admit that it has downsides, and one of those downsides is the interest people take in other people’s business.”

“Maybe.” But looking back, she could see that Hilda might have been right.
She
was the one who had crossed the road because she’d been too ashamed to face anyone. “I assumed I knew what they were thinking. What they were going to say to me.”

“You’re not the only person who goes around imagining that they know what people are thinking.”

“You don’t do that.”

He shrugged. “I’m human. I do it sometimes, but generally I find it more reliable to wait until a person tells me what they think, rather than making a guess. Not only does that make sense to me, but also I’m a guy. I don’t have female intuition.”

“Neither do I, it seems.” Frankie leaned her head back against the seat and let the memories flow over her. “I was
so
scared of her.”

“Hilda? She’s virtually an island elder. Growing up, we were all a little scared of her. But she has a wicked sense of humor and she’ll do anything for the people of this island. Look on the positive side. You went into Harbor Stores and came out alive. In fact, you did better than that. You were hugged by Hilda. That’s a ticket to island approval right there.”

That much was true.

Frankie felt some of the tension leave her. She had built it up in her head. Her own embarrassment had led her to avoid people and she’d confused who was avoiding whom.

Once an islander, always an islander.

Maybe she didn’t feel as if this place was
home
exactly, but she had to admit that it had charm. A charm she’d forgotten. Or maybe it wasn’t that she’d forgotten, more that
the beauty of the place had been blackened by the events surrounding her parents’ divorce.

Matt paused to allow traffic to pass and then took the road that led toward Camp Puffin on the eastern side of the island.

Frankie gazed out the window across the rolling fields to the sea. It glistened and sparkled in the sunshine, a perfect day for sailing. The bay bobbed with boats, and in the far distance she could see the mainland. “It’s pretty here. I never spent much time on this side of the island.”

“You never spent a summer at Camp Puffin?”

“No. Paige didn’t do it because she wasn’t well enough. But you know that, of course.” And she’d been relieved to have an excuse not to spend the summer alongside the other kids. Some of them had been fine, but there had been a group of older boys who had made her life a misery. It had been hard enough to cope with the teasing at school, without extending the torture through the long days of summer. It was a relief to escape from it for a few months. “Eva and I used to make our own camp in the cave on the bay just beyond South Beach. Do you know it?”