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Vanessa reappeared and slapped a ledger on the bar. “Wow, we are fully booked for Saturday, Kate. It’s going to be a good one, judging by the people traveling in from out of town.” She glanced at Mac and frowned. “I know I promised you a double room if one became free, but are you okay with a single until after the weekend?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Can’t see any reason I’ll need a double.” He glanced at Kate, and the first semblance of a smile lifted his lips. “At least not for the first week.”
Her mouth dropped open, but nothing quick or smart emerged.
He faced Vanessa. “Where do you recommend I go for breakfast tomorrow?”
Concern flitted into her gaze. “You haven’t enjoyed the breakfast here?”
“It was fine, but I want to venture out. Discover a bit more about this little town.”
Little town? Kate shifted. The derogatory way he referred to the Cove niggled.
“Well, there are some good cafes on the seafront, a bakery if you want some ridiculously delicious pastries and superb coffee. Other than that, the Christie offers full English, but they’re kind of pricey.”
He sipped his beer. “Great. Thanks.”
Kate drained her drink. Suspicion whirled inside her about this man and his motives for being here. Mac Orman brimmed with confidence. His whole character screamed that he knew where he was going and what he was doing.
Yet, something about his cold gaze told her he wasn’t quite as self-confident as he made out. If his interest in the fund-raiser was anything to go by, he could be the caring type.
He nodded toward his empty glass. “Could I get another one of those?”
Vanessa picked it up. “Sure.”
“And one for the lady.”
Kate flinched. “Me?”
He nodded, his gaze steady on hers.
Damned if the man thought he could faze her. She lifted her chin. “A rum and Coke would be great. Thanks.”
Vanessa grinned. “You’re so funny, Kate. As transparent as a sheet of glass.” She shook her head. “I’ll go grab those drinks.”
Kate shot a glare at Vanessa’s turned back before taking a deep breath and facing Mac. She forced her mind to the matter at hand rather than wondering if he was ever going to take off his leather jacket so she could see what was underneath. “What sort of work are you in?”
“Work?”
“You said you were here on business.”
“Business, yes. Work, no.”
Kate frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means I have business with someone.”
The band finished, and he clapped, his gaze shrewd as he stared at the trio. “Are they local?”
Perplexed and more than a little frustrated by his change of subject, Kate glanced toward the band. “No, but they play here every other month, or thereabouts.” She studied his profile, her unease intensifying. “So, this someone is who brought you here...to this little town?”
Vanessa slid their drinks on to the bar. “Right. I’ll leave you two alone. I need to get some work done before that husband of mine bursts a blood vessel.” She leaned closer to Mac and lowered her voice. “He’s always a little overly suspicious of the good-looking guys who come in here. He’s got a bark like a Doberman, but he’s as soft as a teddy bear. Just don’t tell him I told you that.”
Vanessa walked away, and Kate studied Mac’s turned cheek.
“To answer your question...” He picked up his drink. “I’m looking for someone.”
Inexplicable protectiveness wound through her for the people in the Cove. “Who?”
“That’s not really something you need to know.”
Her senses screamed with warning as he faced the band once more, his jaw tight as he watched them pack up their gear.
“It’s personal.”
His clipped, no-nonsense tone stopped further words from spilling from her too often unstoppable lips. She snapped her mouth closed.
The atmosphere was strained between them, and her mind raced as she ran her study over his neck and shoulders. Would he bring trouble to town? Looking to wreak some kind of vengeance? To right a wrong? He certainly bore the expression and stance of someone incredibly pissed about something.
Her best friend, Izzy, often accused Kate of running full-throttle and letting her overactive imagination leave her sanity behind. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the foreboding running through her. Her past made her suspicious. She didn’t like people making judgments. Assuming things when they had no idea. But she was doing exactly that with Mac. He wasn’t to blame for her ex. For her mother. For her sister.
She drained her drink, wincing as she swallowed. She needed to get out of here before Mac said anything else. She needed to leave the guy the hell alone. “Okay, well, it was nice to meet you. I’d better get home. I have a full day tomorrow.”
“Sure.” He kept his gaze averted and took another drink. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe you will.”
With all the poise she could muster, Kate slipped from her stool and brushed past him, deftly weaving through the thinning crowd and out the door.
She was known throughout the Cove for her lightning wit and her savvy comebacks, not to mention her no-holds-barred fund-raising strategies. Yet tonight, this stranger had reduced her to a suspicious crime-busting detective at best...or a dumbass, suspicion-fueled idiot, at worst.
She pulled her phone from her purse and texted Izzy.
Just met a man who could be here to cause one hell of a stir for someone in the Cove. I’ll pop by the gallery tomorrow morning xx
* * *
MAC RETURNED TO his room, but once inside, he found everything annoying, even the window’s sea view. He tipped his head from side to side. The tension in his neck and shoulder muscles indicated sleep would be a long time coming.
The feisty woman, with her dark brown eyes and thick, curly brown hair, had been a welcome diversion, but now she’d gone, guilt had returned for the reason he was here and the task he had ahead of him. Kate Harrington’s questioning had only increased his determination to confront Marian. The doubts he was doing the right thing by telling her about the man her son had been, would not make Mac hesitate any longer.
He strolled to the window and opened it, breathing in the cold night air. Restless, Mac stared at the remaining three or four cars visible in the lamplight as the bar emptied for the night. His conscience pulled at him to call his mother. It wasn’t unusual for days to pass without him calling her, weeks, if he was on the road with some band or other. But if he called her now, her instincts would tell her something was up.
The last thing he wanted was to rouse his mother’s suspicions.
He closed the window and walked to the desk. He retrieved one of the envelopes and shook its contents on to the bed.
A photograph of his father landed face up and Mac picked it up. His dad smiled at the camera, one arm slung comfortably around Mac’s mum’s shoulders and his other hand resting lightly on Mac’s older sister’s waist. His fourteen-year-old self stood tall beside her, his chest puffed out and his first guitar proudly held in front of him.
Happy times. Good times.
His smile faltered as loss snagged his chest.
Times that would never be repeated now his father was dead. The futile hope his mother and father might one day reunite crushed. According to the dates in his father’s notes, he hadn’t yet started his search for his birth mother when this picture was taken. And it had taken many years after before he’d finally found her.
Exhaling, Mac dropped the letter, damning the cardiac arrest that had taken his father just three months before. Walking back to the desk, he picked up a red, hard-backed notebook and opened it. He scanned his father’s notes. Through these writings, Mac had realized how his father’s search for his biological mother had consumed him. His notes were intense and methodical...pretty much like the man himself.
Yet, his father had chosen to keep his findings a secret and had never contacted the woman who had given him up.
Mac swiped his hand over his face. A sure sign of his father’s habitual insecurity. Yet another example of how Marian’s abandonment must have impacted her son’s life—unbeknownst to her, of course.
But now Mac was here in Templeton, and he would find Marian Ball. Find her and make sure she learned what kind of a man her son had been.
He could start his pursuit of the old lady tonight. The last two days he’d either been holed up in his room trying to pin down a strategy or he’d wandered aimlessly around town looking at the various townhouses, wondering if Marian lived behind one of their doors, his indecision about speaking with her hounding him. But now, as frustration and impatience overtook him, his hesitation vanished. Mac gathered up the papers and stuffed them in the desk drawer along with his father’s notebook.
Snatching up the keys he’d been given upon arrival, Mac left the room, and headed downstairs Once he’d locked the back door behind him, he glanced at the upstairs windows. No doubt his departure at this time of night would cause talk. No curtains twitched and no shadows were cast behind glass.
Satisfied he hadn’t been seen, Mac walked through the garden to a small gate that took him on to a back street. He breathed deep. The cold night air was invigorating and washed away the uncertainty of whether being in the Cove was a betrayal to his father. His mother had confessed to him after the funeral that she’d dissuaded his father from looking for Marian years before, fearing what a second rejection could do to her then husband.
That reason had been weak, almost cowardly, in Mac’s opinion. Even if the circumstances that led to his father’s adoption turned out to be upsetting, his father should’ve had the guts to hear them.
As well as the notebook, his father had left behind a diary in which he had recorded his feelings and thoughts throughout his investigations. Mac’s mother’s pleas had not fallen on deaf ears. Not only had his father heard them, his inner demons had echoed them.
Mac scowled.
Well, his father’s heart had decided to call it a day...suddenly and brutally, leaving his family flailing. Since the death of his girlfriend and their baby, Mac had had trouble dealing with grief. So he’d done the only thing he could.
He gotten busy finishing what his father started.
Mac stalked through the side street until he emerged onto the main thoroughfare, which ran alongside the beach. Crossing the road, he walked across the wooden-planked promenade and gripped the railing. The guilt for abandoning his family in their hour of need pressed down on him, and he battled the sting in his eyes as he looked toward the blackness of the ocean, its waves crashing.
Conflicting determination and doubt warred inside him, and Mac turned his back to the beach to stare across the street. He hadn’t walked this far along the seafront since he arrived.
He stilled, every hair on his body rising.
Marian’s Bonniest Bakery.
The bakery’s awning was pulled back, and its latticed, cottage-styled windows were unfettered by curtains or blinds. It looked homey, inviting...motherly.
He narrowed his eyes as adrenaline caused his heart rate to speed up.
He slowly straightened from the railing and walked forward as though pulled by an invisible rope. He barely glanced in either direction as he crossed the street.
Once he reached the other side, he flitted his study from the bakery’s name to its window. Over and over, he repeated the sequence, his mind scrambling. What were the chances his father’s birth mother owned this place?
He stepped closer to the window and curved his hands around his eyes as he tried to see inside. In the shadowed darkness, he saw pine tables and chairs, a few booths along the window and a counter in back. The place was a decent size, and a profound sense of welcome permeated its light-colored walls dotted with sketches of cupcakes and loaves of bread.
Jolting away, Mac turned and marched along the pavement, his fists clenched as trepidation unfurled inside him. In his mind, he’d purposely decided Marian Ball was someone who put herself first. A woman who had left her baby behind to seek an untethered life without husband or child to hamper her. That had been the easier scenario to carry until he learned the truth.
Templeton Cove might be small, but certain sections were high-end and expensive. So he’d envisioned her living out a wealthy retirement by the sea, heedless of her long-abandoned child trying to track her down.
As unfair as that might be, considering a woman’s limited choices almost fifty years ago, it helped Mac to bury his anger. He wanted to find Marian Ball and lay his father to rest. He hadn’t come here to find a grandmother he might like.
The bakery didn’t fit with any of his imaginings, and that scared him.
What if she was welcoming and warm? What if she’d had other kids and his father was mistaken?
He gritted his teeth, focusing on the pain of all he’d lost. The woman needed to know how her decisions had affected her son and, in turn, his children.
Yet, the enormity of what might happen next continued to badger him. He needed to think some more. Tomorrow he would come back here, order some breakfast, check out the locals and, of course, check out Marian and her bonniest bakery.
Chapter Three (#ue10c7dc7-e979-5295-a96a-e1b421cafe7f)
KATE PUSHED OPEN the door of the View and entered the chic art gallery.
Across the room, Izzy, her best friend and the gallery’s manager, stood in front of a painted landscape, her arms crossed and her head tilted in contemplation.
“Iz?”
“Mmm?”
Kate prodded her friend’s arm. “Hey.”
Izzy turned, her eyes glazed in obvious thought. “What do you think of this piece? I’m trying to decide if I like it or not.” She turned back to the painting. “Jay acquired it on one of his business trips. He loves it, but I’m not sure.”
Kate glanced at the painting and shrugged. “Sea, sand, sky. What’s not to like? Now...” She gripped Izzy’s arm and pulled her to one of the cushioned seats in the center of the gallery’s open floor plan. “We, me and you, have to figure out what we’re going to do about Mac Orman.”
Izzy frowned. “Who?”
“Mac. The guy I texted you about last night.”
Izzy raised her eyebrows as they sat. “What we’re going to do? You have noticed I’m working at the gallery full-time now, as well as trying to organize my wedding. Do you really think I have time to worry whether or not a mysterious stranger who just arrived in town is going to end up sleeping with my too highly strung, too much in need of sex, best friend?” Izzy sighed. “Sorry, my life’s far too busy right now.”
Kate feigned a glare and playfully swatted Izzy’s shoulder. “Are you actually trying not to laugh?”
“Of course not.”
Kate narrowed her eyes and nudged Izzy again. “Nothing about this guy, nothing about my text to you last night is funny. Absolutely nothing.”
Izzy’s blue eyes glinted with undisguised glee. “This is priceless.”
“What is?”
“You.”
Kate’s cheeks warmed with indignation. “Some friend you are.”
Izzy frowned, and when she spoke, her tone was less amused. “You need to calm down.” She searched Kate’s eyes. “My God, this guy has really gotten to you, hasn’t he? Just how good-looking is he?”
