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Kara eyed him carefully, trying to garner a sense of who her temporary neighbor might be. She found him hard to read. That, in itself, told her she should be wary. Her instincts about strangers had usually been on target. But this particular man wasn’t giving her intuition very much to work with.
“Where are you from?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.
“A couple of hours up north. I had some time off and thought I’d just travel along the coast.”
Kara, glad the dog had finally settled down, eased her hold on Gulliver’s collar. “Sounds like you’ve got an adventurous spirit.”
He slid her a half smile. “I’ve been accused of being staid and boring, but never adventurous.”
“That’s too bad.” Kara wondered how a man who looked to be the epitome of outdoor fun could consider himself dull. It didn’t seem possible. “Life can be tough if you can’t find time to enjoy it.”
“Kara’s just about the most funnest person you’ll ever know,” Eric interjected. “She’s always got a cool idea. She can make the yuckiest things kind of neat.”
“I’m not into fun,” Michael said. Topaz-colored eyes studied Kara a bit more intensely than she liked. It seemed as though he was trying to read her, just as she had tried with him. She found it unsettling until he turned and smiled at Eric. “I just came here to walk on the beach. Think. Have some alone time.”
And then Kara saw it, that glimmer of something in his eyes that told her more about the man than he told her himself. She recognized sadness, and although he’d only allowed her a brief glimpse, it was there. She was sure of it. Michael, whoever he was, had come to Harbor Haven to ease his pain.
Her heart went out to him, just as it did for every orphan she met—human or animal. Of course, she didn’t need to adopt another lonely stray into her world. Her time was spread a bit too thin, as it was.
When she wasn’t working at the Pacifica Bar and Grill and saving every dime she could for graduate school, she was helping Lizzie make a home for the children.
“Well,” she said, dismissing her analysis of the good-looking stranger, “Harbor Haven should give you all the fresh air and sunshine you need.” She pointed toward the office built on the front of Lizzie’s cottage. “You’ll find Elizabeth Campbell inside. She’s the owner.”
“Thanks,” Michael said. Then he strode toward the office, leaving Kara and Eric to their game of soccer.
“Okay, Kara,” Eric said. “Let’s finish our practice. What does the book say we need to do next?”
Kara smiled at the boy whose childhood had been interrupted by tragedy, knowing it was their commonality that led to their friendship and camaraderie. She, too, had been orphaned, but she didn’t have family to look after her. “I left the book on the picnic table. Let’s go read the next chapter.”
Eric dashed ahead, still favoring his left foot. Last year a tragic car accident had damaged his hip and thigh. The orthopedic surgeon said Eric might never regain the full use of his leg. Kara hoped he didn’t need any additional operations. The poor kid had been through enough already.
“Out of my way, Gulliver,” Eric said, as he tried to maneuver around the loping dog. “You’re supposed to watch and get the ball when we miss the goal. Only people play soccer.”
Kara wished she’d played soccer herself, as a kid. She hadn’t, of course, but the public library had oodles of books on sports, and she was determined to learn along with Eric. Instead of putting them at a disadvantage, reading and studying together had a lot of positive effects—the least of which was developing a close, loving bond with each other.
Eric, who had virtually no reading skills six months ago, was now browsing the library with enthusiasm. He saw education as a means of achieving anything he wanted, including fun on the school playground.
And that’s exactly what Kara had hoped would happen. It was her own plan of action. That’s why she struggled so hard to put herself through junior college, then on to a four-year degree. It had taken her six years to do it, but she’d achieved it without any student loans or financial aid.
As a child, she’d been a ward of the state for as long as she could remember, dependent upon the charity and handouts of others. But not any longer. Everything she owned, every oddball, mismatched piece of furniture, secondhand pair of shoes or outfit had been provided by her own labor. Self-sufficiency made her feel as rich and proud as a queen. And she would never take a dime from anyone else, never feel obligated to anyone again.
“Oh, Gulliver,” Eric said, as he and the gangly dog collided. The boy’s bad leg gave way, and he fell to the graveled parking lot and skidded on his hands and knees. “Ow.”
Oh, no. Not his leg, Kara thought, as she strode to Eric’s side, hoping the injury was minor. Lizzie hadn’t been too happy about Eric playing outside, let alone soccer. Too dangerous, she’d said. But Kara figured the woman was more concerned the courts would find fault with her and take Eric and his baby sister away. It hadn’t been easy for a seventy-five-year-old woman to gain custody of her grandchildren, but the boy’s heroism in the midst of tragedy had made him a celebrity of sorts.
Several televised reports and a heart-stunning newspaper editorial had led to an outpouring of support. Telephone calls to the television stations jammed their lines for days, and a slew of letters written to the editor of the newspaper demanded the children’s need for a loving family member to take them, no matter what her age. The judge, swayed by public sentiment, granted Lizzie temporary custody of Eric and Ashley, the baby sister whose life he’d saved.
Still, the guardianship Lizzie held was tenuous. Kara, having been jerked about within the system herself, knew firsthand how temporary custody and foster care could be. When it became necessary for the kids to have a more permanent home, she hoped the press would back her attempt to adopt the kids she’d grown to love. She had Lizzie’s blessing, but the court would make the ultimate decision. And at this time in her life, she had little to offer the kids except love.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Eric struggled to stand, tears running down his dusty cheeks to a quivering bottom lip. “That dumb dog—”
“Gulliver didn’t mean to knock you down,” Kara said. “He thought you wanted to race and play.”
“I know, but it really hurts, Kara.”
She scooped the boy up in her arms, then carried him toward the cottage he shared with Lizzie. “We’ll get you cleaned up and bandaged. You’ll be good as new in no time.”
“It stings, really bad.”
“I know it does, honey.” Kara carried Eric to the office steps, then adjusted him in her arms so she could open the door. “I don’t think we should let Gulliver play soccer with us anymore. He’s too big and rough.”
Eric blew at a scrape on his palm, then glanced at Kara. “But that would hurt his feelings, like when the kids at school don’t pick me to be on their team.”
Kara sighed. “You’re right. I guess we’ll have to figure out something else.” She knew how cruel some kids could be. Freckle-face strawberry. Raggedy Kara Ann. Don’t play with Kara—she’s got cooties.
Sometimes the sounds of childhood crept back to haunt her. She stilled them by remembering the kindness some of her teachers had shown—teachers like Miss Green who had shown compassion for a homeless girl by keeping a comb and brush set in her desk drawer.
Every morning, Kara would stop by the classroom where she could wash her face and comb her hair before the first bell rang. Most days, Miss Green would have an extra barrette or ribbon. The teasing seemed to ease after that, which was probably why Kara was still obsessed with cleanliness. She might not have any clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs or secondhand purchases, but she owned an array of soaps, body lotions and hair products that would put a teenage girl to shame.
As Kara nudged the door with her shoulder, Lizzie looked up from her desk. “Land sakes, what happened?”
Michael watched her every bit as intently as Lizzie, but she hoped to get Eric into the bathroom with as little fuss as possible. Things like this seemed to cause Lizzie’s already high blood pressure to skyrocket.
“Nothing that a little soap, water and bandaging won’t help,” Kara said, hoping to sound cheerful.
“But his leg,” Lizzie cried. “The doctors said to be careful.”
“He’s fine. Don’t worry, Lizzie. Sit down before you have a heart attack.”
Michael was at Kara’s side in a moment. “Here, let me help,” he said, taking Eric from her arms.
She appreciated his assistance, which would allow her hands the freedom to care for the wounds. “The bathroom is this way. If you’ll just set him on the counter, I can do the rest.”
Kara led Michael down the hall, but when he placed Eric upon the pink-tiled counter, he didn’t turn and leave. Instead, he carefully checked each wound. His gentle assessment surprised her. Most men had a rather macho side, at least those she’d met while working at the Pacifica Bar and Grill. An image of Jason Baker came to mind, a man who had once thought Kara should be thrilled that a guy of his wealth and social standing should want to date her.
Hon, she could imagine him saying, just rub a little dirt on it. It’ll toughen up that wimpy kid.
“Do you have any antibacterial soap?” Michael asked, pulling Kara from her musing.
Unable to spot any on the countertop, she stooped to search the cabinet under the sink where Lizzie kept bathroom supplies. Finding soap in a clear, plastic bottle decorated with cartoon characters, she stood. “You don’t have to help me. I can take it from here.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said.
She watched him work carefully, all the while talking to Eric about soccer and school, taking his mind off the cleaning of gravel embedded in his right knee. Then Michael paused, glancing at one leg then the other. Noting the extensive scars and disparity in musculature? Kara wondered. If so, he didn’t comment, which was good. Eric was self-conscious of the difference.
“You’re pretty good with fixing skinned knees and hands,” Kara said, trying to make conversation. “What else are you good at?”
He looked at her with another one of those unreadable expressions, then their gazes locked for only a moment, but long enough for her to feel a flutter in her stomach and a warmth in her breast.
What else are you good at? Good grief. Had she said that? It sounded so suggestive, and she certainly hadn’t meant to…
“I mean,” she said, “any other talents?”
“None to boast about,” he answered. His amber eyes never left hers, and the room seemed to close in on them.
Boy, it was hot in here. Kara blew out her breath. “Ready for some gauze and tape?” she asked, trying to still her awkwardness.
“Yeah,” Michael said, returning his attention to Eric.
When Eric had been bandaged, Kara reached to take the boy from the counter and set him on the floor, but apparently Michael had the same idea. Their hands brushed together, and they both jerked back in response.
Kara, her fingers still tingling from his touch, felt her cheeks warm. Darn that telltale flush. She didn’t want him thinking she felt embarrassment or anything else. He was a stranger, just passing through. And she had a lot on her plate these days. A brief—
A brief what?
For goodness sake, was she even thinking an odd encounter in Lizzie’s bathroom with a stranger was a prelude to anything at all?
She’d been reading too many romance books.
And if she’d learned anything at all, happily ever after only happened in fairy tales. It had been a tough lesson, but one she wouldn’t ever forget. She would never allow a Prince Charming to rescue her and set her up in a castle in the sky.
Kara Westin could take care of herself.
Kara carried Gulliver’s leash and stepped out on the porch, intent on taking her usual sunset walk south of the harbor. It had become an evening ritual, ever since she’d first moved into the Haven.
The quiet hour before dusk was her favorite time of the day. She relished the tranquillity as the sun sank low in the pink and gray streaked sky. It gave her time to think, to plan, to dream.
Resting her hands against the lattice railing, she watched the waves crash upon the shore. Sometimes, when things were really quiet, she envisioned herself on the deck of a huge ship, sailing across the sea to a land of plenty and promise. Kara didn’t have many possessions, but she did own a vivid imagination, something she found priceless.
A lone gull sounded in the distance, and she searched the horizon. Instead of the bird, she spotted Michael, her new neighbor. He sat, alone and pensive, perched on the rocks that lined the jetty.
Who was he? Why had he come after the other tourists had gone home? She wanted to honor his privacy, but to do so meant she would remain on the porch instead of walking barefoot in the sand. Perhaps she could wave, acknowledge his presence, then continue on her own. She didn’t need to strike up a conversation or bother him.
She stepped from the deck and strode toward the fence behind Mr. Radcliff’s house. Kara and Mr. Radcliff were the only two permanent tenants of Lizzie’s cottages. The elderly man had been kind enough to allow Gulliver to stay in his yard, since Kara’s house didn’t have a fence. Kara, in turn, fed and cared for the dog and kept Mr. Radcliff’s yard clean.
Lizzie thought Mr. Radcliff rather stodgy and persnickety, but Kara disagreed. Losing his eyesight had surely made the old man act that way. Besides, Kara liked to focus on the good qualities people had, and as far as she was concerned, Mr. Radcliff had plenty. He’d been the first to suggest a trust fund be set up for Eric and little Ashley. And he’d organized the Gray Brigade, a group of senior citizens who had besieged the local paper with phone calls and letters to the editor in support of Lizzie’s request for custody.
Mr. Radcliff was kindhearted, even if he was a bit cranky at times. Lizzie referred to him as another of Kara’s adoptees, which, in a sense, he probably was. Of course, Kara made it a point not to coddle him, but she did take him dessert some evenings. And whenever his hometown newspaper arrived in the mail, she made time to read it out loud to him.
After she snapped the leash on Gulliver, Kara and the dog took off toward the shore, a bit more quickly than Kara had intended. “Come on,” she warned the dog. “Take it easy. I want to walk, not race. And if you don’t stop jerking ahead, you’ll pull my arm from its socket. Then who will exercise you?”
Gulliver, apparently not the least bit intimidated by Kara’s threat, didn’t show much restraint as they neared the stretch of beach where Michael rested upon the rocks, one knee bent, the other extended. He seemed so lost in his thoughts that she doubted whether he noticed her watching him. Or whether he even cared.
He picked up a small stone, studied it carefully, then tossed it into the surf. The breeze ruffled his golden hair, and the sun glistened off a bristled cheek, making him look like an eighteenth-century sea captain who’d lost his ship and crew. Kara’s imagination took hold, and she envisioned him marooned on a desert island, forlorn and helpless.
So pensive, so alone, she thought. So sad. Why did she always gravitate toward the downtrodden? Little boys who’d been orphaned, motherless babies, lonely old men and women, stray dogs.
Surely, she should leave him alone, allow him some privacy.
But like the call of the gull, his solitude cried out and beckoned her.
Chapter Two
Michael watched the sun dip low in the sky and found some peace at last. So far, so good, he thought. No one had recognized him or badgered him with questions he hadn’t even taken time to consider himself. For that reason alone, this quiet little hideaway might be just what he needed.
A bark caught his attention, and he glanced over his right shoulder where Kara walked her dog along the beach. No, he corrected, the monstrous dog walked her.
She caught his gaze and, perhaps assuming he wanted company, tugged on the leash to encourage the dog closer to the rocks. The breeze teased her autumn tendrils of hair, and the brightness of her smile seemed to challenge the setting sun. Like a pixie, she enchanted him. He studied her longer than was polite.
“Hello,” she called. “Gulliver and I are going for a walk along the beach, care to join us?”
Gulliver, she’d called the dog, and the image of a tiny Lilliputian queen trying valiantly to capture the giant brought a smile to his lips.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, swiping at a fiery strand of hair whipping in the ocean air.
He doubted telling her she reminded him of a Lilliputian would sit well, even if he bestowed the respectful title of queen, so he changed the subject. “Looks to me as though that dog wants to drag you down the beach.”
“I’m stronger than I look,” she said with a grin. “Tougher, too.”
Michael smiled again, finding it hard to believe that the redheaded pixie was either. He’d seen his share of strong women, hard women. Spending a few moments with one who was entirely different than others he’d known suddenly seemed appealing. He stood and climbed from the rocks, brushing the sand from the backside of his khaki shorts while he made his way toward her. “Maybe I should hold the dog.”
She shrugged as though his offer didn’t warrant much consideration, but a dimpled cheek and dancing green eyes told him she found something amusing in his words. “Suit yourself,” she said, handing him the leash.
As she transferred control of Gulliver, the dog danced and pranced before nearly dislocating Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, settle down, boy.” Then he glanced at the woman walking at his side and wearing a smile as light and easy as the ocean breeze.
“Gulliver loves to run on the beach,” she said, the lilt of her voice as fey as her appearance. “But I’m trying hard to train him to be well mannered.”
She had her work cut out for her, Michael thought. The dog still needed a lot of discipline, but he didn’t mention it. “How long have you been working with him?”
“Since I found him about three weeks ago,” she said, stooping to reach for a shell resting on the sand. She blew on it, then held it out for him to see. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
He nodded, although he would have stepped right over it himself.
She flashed him another effervescent smile. “I collect things.”
“Besides stray dogs and strangers?” he asked, unable to resist teasing her a bit.
She tucked the brown and yellow speckled shell into the front pocket of her shorts. “There’s enough loneliness in the world.”
He wondered whether she had experienced loneliness firsthand, or if she just had a compassionate heart. Both, he surmised. The sudden curiosity about her surprised him. “Mrs. Campbell said you’ve been helping her with the kids.”
Kara nodded. “At first, it was a neighborly thing to do, like reading to Mr. Radcliff. But I fell in love with Ashley and Eric. And we’ve become a family of sorts. When Lizzie can no longer take care of them, I’d like to be their guardian. Their mom. And I’ll take care of Lizzie, too.”
It seemed a noble thing for her to do. He couldn’t imagine his ex-wife being so tenderhearted that she’d take in a couple of orphans. Denise hadn’t wanted any of her own kids.
Why hadn’t he spotted her true character until after it reached up and smacked him between the eyes? In a way, he only had himself to blame for the entire mess.
