“Having a great time. Hello, Roy. Corrie.”
Corrie took the empty seat beside Olivia, and Roy claimed the single one next to Jack. Before long, the two women were involved in a discussion of some sort, and Roy was talking to Jack about state politics. This wasn’t exactly how Jack had pictured the evening, but on second thought it took the pressure off him to be a brilliant conversationalist.
Just as Mayor Benson walked onto the stage, Olivia leaned toward Jack and whispered, “Is it okay if Roy and Corrie join us for dinner?”
Jack hesitated. “Is it okay with you?”
“I don’t mind if you don’t.”
Apparently she didn’t, because she leaned close to her friend and he watched Corrie nod.
As he suspected, the evening’s competition was entertaining. Jack learned that it had begun as a way to bring some laughter to a wet, gray spring. The contest had been going for a number of years. The rules were simple: Young and old did their utmost to sound like the cantankerous seagulls that populated Cedar Cove. Jack laughed, shouted, cheered and booed with the rest of the audience.
The winner, a fourteen-year-old boy, astonished everyone with his mimicry and won easily. Jack and Olivia walked close together as they filed out of the auditorium. He placed his hand protectively on her back—and wished he had the nerve to do more, to take her arm in his.
They met Roy and Corrie at The Captain’s Galley a few minutes later. A sober-faced young woman who looked somewhat familiar led them to their table and gave them menus. Almost by rote, she wished them an enjoyable meal and departed.
“Who’s that?” Jack asked.
Olivia’s eyes widened; she was signaling that she couldn’t discuss this. Not until later did it hit him. Their hostess was the woman who’d been in court the first day he’d seen Olivia. The woman she’d prevented from filing for divorce. He’d written about her—she was the Divorce Denied wife.
“How about a bottle of wine?” Roy suggested.
Everyone seemed to be in agreement. Jack studied his menu and let Roy do the ordering. When the waitress arrived with the wineglasses, he declined.
“Just one glass,” Roy protested.
“No, thanks.” He didn’t drink and he didn’t make excuses.
The restaurant had an excellent reputation, and Jack’s meal certainly lived up to it. He ordered the fried oysters and Olivia had seafood fettuccine. After a congenial dinner, Roy and Corrie headed home while Jack and Olivia stayed for a second coffee.
The young hostess wandered past their table and Olivia glanced at Jack. “You recognize her now, don’t you?”
He nodded, feeling a surge of sympathy for the woman, who seemed barely out of her teens. He’d sat in court and listened to a tragic yet all-too-common story. A story he knew well, about a marriage that couldn’t weather a true crisis. A couple separated by grief. He didn’t know what had happened since that day in court or whether they’d gone ahead with the proceedings. What he could see, just by looking at her, was that Cecilia Randall was very unhappy.
“Do you think she recognized you?” Jack asked.
Olivia shook her head. Jack didn’t think she had, either.
“It makes me wonder,” Olivia murmured.
Jack could tell she was upset. “You think you made the wrong decision?”
Olivia shrugged and stared down at her coffee. “The poor girl looks like she’s got the weight of the world on her shoulders.”
“Maybe she just had a bad night,” he said.
“Maybe,” Olivia echoed, but Jack could tell she didn’t believe that and neither did he.
When Seth Gunderson left for Alaska in the first week of April, Justine was relieved. It was better this way. She thought about him far too often, treasured every minute they’d spent together. She didn’t want to become involved with Seth. Didn’t want to care about him, and most certainly didn’t want to fall in love with him, but that was exactly what was happening—had already happened.
After their impromptu dinner date, she’d refused his next invitation. She knew trouble when she saw it, and was well aware of her own weakness. He wanted her and she, God help her, wanted him. But Justine was too smart to give in to those yearnings. She wasn’t a woman ruled by emotions.
Seth, however, wasn’t a man easily dismissed. He opened an account at First National Bank, and found an excuse to come in at least once a week. He didn’t pressure her, didn’t argue with her, didn’t do anything out of the ordinary; he was just there. And one day she simply couldn’t stand it anymore.
She followed him outside. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded, standing in the parking lot, the sun burning off a thick fog, threatening to break through at any moment. Justine felt like weeping, but she was too damned angry to let him know how much he’d disturbed her.
Seth didn’t deny his intentions, but he met her anger with a gentleness that nearly broke her heart.
“If you want me to stop, I will,” was all he said.
“Stop!” she cried, and marched back into the bank. A week later, after seven sleepless nights, she went in search of him. Not knowing exactly where to find him, she walked down to the marina.
He appeared almost immediately, meeting her out on the pier, wearing his heavy wool jacket, a knit cap on his head. She stood with her back against the railing, and Seth smiled and wordlessly pressed his warm hand to her cold cheek.
Justine resisted the urge to close her eyes and lean into his hand. “I’m here to tell you that Warren Saget is the perfect man for me,” she said.
“No, he’s not.”
Justine wanted to stamp her foot the way a child does. She wasn’t sure why she’d come—to assuage her longing to see him? To end this once and for all? But now that she was here, she knew it was a mistake.
“Warren is older, mature and wealthy, and you’re none of those things.”
“No, I’m not,” he agreed.
She hated it that he so willingly accepted her arguments. It made everything ten times worse. “Warren’s a respected businessman.”
“And I’m a fisherman.”
“Exactly,” she cried, more angry with herself than with Seth.
“But it’s me you want,” he said simply.
Refusing to answer him, she’d vaulted from the dock and run back to work. She hadn’t seen him since. The only reason she knew he’d left for Alaska was that she’d heard someone at the bank mention it earlier in the week.
Friday afternoon Warren phoned her at work. “How about dinner?” He sounded sure of himself, sure of her answer.
“Not tonight, Warren.”
There was a short, uncomfortable silence. “Why not?”
“I’m not feeling well.” Which was a slight exaggeration. She did have a headache, but nothing a couple of aspirin and a few minutes with her eyes closed wouldn’t cure.
He didn’t like it when Justine turned him down. Warren was a man accustomed to getting his own way. “You’re still mad about that class reunion, aren’t you?”
“Not particularly.” As of this moment, Justine decided not to go. Seth might be there, and he made her weak in ways she didn’t want to consider. One kiss had ruined her. One stupid kiss. Now, every time Warren attempted to touch her, she ran in the opposite direction. Seth Gunderson had a great deal to answer for.
“I have a killer headache,” she told him, exaggerating in order to avoid another confrontation.
“Is there anything I can get you?” he asked, his voice soft, conciliatory.
“No. Have dinner without me and I’ll talk to you soon.”
“All right, sweetheart. You take care of yourself.”
“I will.” Justine intended on doing exactly that. After work, she headed straight to her apartment with a quart of her favorite gourmet ice cream and two rented videos.
When the doorbell rang and a deliveryman stood there with a huge arrangement of flowers, her first thought was that they were from Seth. Then she read Warren’s name on the tag and started to cry for no discernible reason.
She dumped the flowers in the sink. Dressed in her oldest flannel pajamas, she sat cross-legged in front of her television, eating straight out of the ice cream carton.
Her doorbell ran again. Justine was in no mood for company. Stabbing her spoon into the ice cream, she shouted, “Go away! I’m busy.”
Whoever was on the other side refused to take no for an answer. Angry now, she set the ice cream aside and got awkwardly to her feet. Drunk on her misery, she staggered to the front door and defiantly threw it open.
Seth Gunderson stood on the other side.
Justine took one startled look at him and gasped.
“Justine?”
What an atrocious sight she must be. “This is your fault!” she raged. Then, throwing open the screen door, she grabbed him by the lapels with both hands and jerked him over the threshold. He stumbled into the apartment but she didn’t give him time to speak before she hurled herself into his arms. Taken off guard, Seth lurched backward and nearly lost his balance before sliding his arms around her waist, locking her in his embrace.
Their kisses were full of passion and frenzy. Her lips were cold with ice cream; his were hot with longing. He was dressed for the outdoors; Justine was nude beneath the thin flannel pajamas. Her hands roved over his body; his hands pressed her close to his heart.
Struggling against him, Justine unfastened the big round buttons of his jacket and with clumsy movements peeled it from his arms. His shirt was next, but the buttons were more stubborn this time and she struggled, impatient and so damn hot she felt she was going to burst into flames if he didn’t hurry and take her to bed. Her entire body pulsed with need. She wanted him as she’d never wanted another man in her life.
“Justine, no.” Seth held her at arm’s length, his chest heaving with the effort to break off their frantic kisses.
“No?” she cried in outrage. He’d created this wild fire that burned inside her, and he could damn well quench the flames.
“Not like this, when neither of us knows what we’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she challenged, her fists digging into her hips. “Are you rejecting me?” She noticed that her stance gave him a peek at her breasts and did nothing to shore up the gap in her pajama top.
Seth walked over to the sofa and sank wearily into the cushions while Justine fought to hold on to her shredded dignity. She put on a brave front, but she already knew she’d done everything humanly possible to make a fool of herself.
“It would be the easiest thing in the world to haul you into that bedroom and spend the next two days making love to you,” Seth told her in a low voice.
Her knees went weak, and she was almost—almost—reduced to begging.
“But I won’t,” he said, “because I love you. I’ve loved you from the time we were kids and I will not give either one of us an excuse to screw this up.”
Her bravado was slipping fast. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t stay away.”
