Page 55 of Booked for Summer

The air between them crackled and she held her breath, a sudden sense that they were at the edge of a precipice. Ahead was a potentially life-altering thrill, but it came with a great degree of danger. Did she take a huge, terrifying move towards it? Or retreat, as fast as she possibly could, to safety?

Liam broke the heavily charged silence. ‘You know, this’—he pointed back and forth between them—‘it doesn’t work for me either. I have plans, carefully constructed plans I’ve spent years putting in place, that you’re trying your hardest to derail. I don’t want to spend my days thinking about you. Nor do I want to keep spilling my guts to you. I especially don’t want to like you, because I know I’ll get shafted further down the line. But it’s happening, and I can’t stop it.’

With a final incline of his head, he turned and headed down the stairs.

She was left wondering if the decision whether or not to move towards the danger was even in her hands.

* * *

The iconic clay cliffs of Martha’s Vineyard came slowly into view and Liam felt some of his tension start to recede. Light from the setting sun danced across the water, casting shimmering reflections as he powered towards the shore. Minutes later he secured the yacht on its mooring and walked up the private wooden jetty towards his grandma’s house.

He always looked forward to seeing her, but after the day he’d just had, more than ever he felt the need to be close to the woman who was his anchor, his family.

The one person in his life who’d ever given a damn about him.

A flash of white fur darted towards him and he bent to stroke the sleek cat who purred like an expensive car as she rubbed against his legs. ‘At least someone’s pleased to see me.’

‘Stop fussing over her and give your grandma a hug.’

He felt a rush of warmth, of deep affection, as he marched over to the figure standing in the open French doors. With her short white hair, which she dyed blue, pink or purple depending on her mood, but was today a bright silver, his grandma was still a knockout at seventy-five. He bent to hug her, lifting her feet off the ground and twirling them both around. And earning him a delighted chuckle. ‘It’s been too long since a man swept me off my feet.’

Carefully he settled her back on the ground. ‘And why’s that? You know Pop would never have wanted you to live alone.’

‘I’m not alone. I have Bardot. And I have you.’

‘What about John?’ In his early seventies, the man lived around the corner and had been attempting to persuade his grandma into a relationship for two years. ‘Is he still breaking his back, and his bank balance, trying to convince you to give him a chance?’

She chuckled and threaded her arm through his as they walked inside. ‘He’s bored and I’m his entertainment. Now tell me your news. What are your plans for the waterfront, now that your purchases are complete? And for that lovely old store on the wharf?’

He peered down at her curiously. ‘Why do I get the feeling you already know?’

‘I still have my spies on the island, you know. And they tell me the new bookstore manager has started a campaign to get you to keep the shop.’ She smiled. ‘I always liked that place.’

‘You liked browsing the books there,’ he corrected. ‘And then you’d borrow the one you wanted from the library and if they didn’t have it in, you’d ask them to order it.’

‘Only because I couldn’t afford books back then. It was always my dream to be able to go in and just buy whatever I fancied. It’s such a delightful shop, all that driftwood, the position of it.’ She let out a long, dreamy sigh. ‘A real paradise for book lovers.’

He knew she was coming from a place of sentimentality, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling of hurt. ‘Not you, too.’

She squeezed his hand, her expression full of love. ‘If by that you mean I’d like it if the bookstore remained, then, yes, but I’m sure you have very good reasons for knocking it down.’

‘I do.’ He could hardly build a row of exclusive luxury cottages, each complete with its own private mooring, and leave a damn bookstore in the middle of it all.

She walked to the kitchen and reached into the cupboard, bringing down two wine glasses. ‘Well, then, you just have to explain your reasons to this new manager.’

‘She’s not as reasonable as you.’ His conscience niggled. Jade only knew it was about money. If he told her everything, would she understand? He recalled the sympathy in her eyes as he’d opened up to her this afternoon. Maybe she would, but was it really in his best interests? He’d be laying himself bare. Leaving himself defenceless.

A shudder ran through him.

‘I hear she’s very pretty.’

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he set his expression to neutral. ‘You could describe her that way.’ Luscious, devastatingly sexy, utterly unique were other descriptions. ‘Do you want me to open a bottle?’ he asked, hoping to change the subject.

‘Of course. I bought a lovely Merlot for you.’

He went to grab the bottle sitting on the worktop, and frowned down at the label. ‘It’s a Pinot Noir.’

‘Oh, is it? Silly me, I must have misread it.’

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