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Drago’s lips curled. “Wanting a little jailbait yourself?”
Annie winced as Logan’s fist shot out, clipping Drago’s jaw. Drago stumbled back, but didn’t go down. His smile was oily as he turned and jogged away, disappearing into the thick stand of trees that bordered the palatial Hess estate.
Logan looked ready to pursue him and Annie hastily darted back to him, grabbing his arm. “He’s an idiot. Let him go.”
“So he can get away with assaulting you?”
“He didn’t—” She exhaled. The truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure what Drago would have done if Logan hadn’t come along when he had. Before now, Drago had seemed content with the bargain they’d struck—she’d get him an in at her private school so he could pick up mechanic work on all the rich kids’ cars, and though in public he’d portray the totally inappropriate boyfriend, in private he’d keep his hands off her. “Look, I’m glad you came when you did. But I meant it when I said I didn’t want to cause a scene during the reception.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever walked away from creating a scene. What did your parents do? Threaten to disown you if something happened today?”
“My parents threaten to disown me every other week,” she assured blandly. The truth was, she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Will any more than she already had with her refusal to accept Noelle’s efforts at friendship. “Believe me, they’ll probably be disappointed when the day ends without me doing something to embarrass them in front of their guests.”
From the other side of the boathouse, where the enormous awning had been erected on the richly groomed grounds, applause and cheering broke out from the revelers.
“Is that why you wouldn’t go ask for their help?”
Annie kept her smile in place, but it took an effort. “As it happens, I did ask.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “And?”
She shrugged. “Well, Drago didn’t leave until just now, did he?” She didn’t like the look in his eyes. The one that seemed a little too close to pitying. “You should be back there.” She tilted her head in the direction of the party. “Will’s probably tossing the garter or something about now.”
“Why aren’t you back there?”
“What? To catch the bouquet?” She managed an uncaring shrug. “Not my style.”
His eyebrow lifted. “You’re seventeen years old. You don’t have a style yet.”
She nearly laughed. “I’ll be eighteen in a few months, and you know better than that. Annie’s style is to go wherever there is trouble, and if there isn’t trouble yet, there soon will be once she arrives.”
“Is that what you really think or are you just quoting your parents?”
Her smile faltered a little. “What’s the difference?”
Another burst of clapping and laughter sprang through the night. Logan’s steady, silent look made her feel positively itchy. “If you don’t like something, Annie, you’re the one who has the power to change it.”
“Annie’ll never change,” she assured. “My parents say that all the time.” She hated the way her throat felt, all tight. She focused hard on the empty champagne bottle lying in the grass beside the walkway until her vision cleared.
Then she nudged the bottle with the pointed toe of her red pump. “Pity about the champagne. It spilled out when I tried to hit Drago with the bottle. Such a waste.”
“I think you’ve already had plenty.”
“Me? I’m underage, Logan, remember? You don’t think I meant to drink it myself, do you?”
The corner of his lips tilted. “I’m well aware of your age, and yes, I do think you meant to drink it.” His voice was as dry as the imported bubbly.
The man was intoxicating. More so than any amount of champagne she might have consumed on the sly.
“That’s why you snuck down here by the boathouse, I suspect. To drink your little heart out.”
“How nice of you to notice.” She’d perfected that bored tone when she was knee-high to a grasshopper. But, when she languidly brushed her hair back from her shoulder and his gaze tracked the movement, she hid another little shudder.
“Oh, you’re noticeable, all right. Somebody should put you on a leash.”
Despite his wholly overwhelming appeal, she was more comfortable with this sort of exchange with him than any other. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his hands on her. Simple.
Her lips curved. “Why, Logan. Is there a bit of kink hiding beneath your straight-arrow exterior?”
He didn’t look amused.
She exhaled, pouting a little, and walked closer to him. Her heels were so ungodly high that the top of her head nearly reached his chin. She tilted her head back a little, leaning toward him. Her heart was beating so hard that she wondered hazily if he could see it right through the wedge of skin revealed by the plunging V of her dress.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Giving you a proper thank you.” She pressed her lips to his jaw, settling her hand against his chest when her knees seemed too shaky to hold her.
“Fine.” His voice was clipped. “You’re welcome.”
He hadn’t moved, and she felt the heady beat of his heart right through the shirt he wore. Her palm still hurt, but the white silk felt unreasonably soft as she moved her hand down over his hard abdomen. Her lips tingled as she drew them along the hard, raspy line of his jaw. She rose on her toes, her mouth slowly, agonizingly nearing his. For an altogether too brief moment, his hand slid behind her neck, tangling in her hair. His lips hovered enticingly close to hers.
Then he suddenly set her from him, dragging her hand away from his belt as he pushed her back. “Dammit, Annie. You don’t have to behave this way, just for the sake of getting some attention from your worthless parents.”
Her defenses closed around her again like a vise. “You want me, Logan. I know you do.” She leaned toward him once more.
His hands held her off. “Grow up.” His voice was hard. “You’re a beautiful, selfish little girl who doesn’t think about anything other than what she wants.”
His words stung. Not because it was the first time she’d heard such accusations, but because they came from him. “And you’re saying you don’t want to kiss me? Touch me? Believe me, Logan, I know when a guy’s interested.” Her gaze ran over him.
“Is this what you do back at that expensive boarding school you and my sister go to? Convince yourself that any guy you throw yourself at is interested just because you’ve gotten a physical reaction out of him?”
The truth was, she hadn’t thrown herself at any man, until now. Everything up to then—the scores of boyfriends, Drago, the alcohol, the failed tests—had been just a front. A futile attempt to get kicked out of a school she’d loathed every minute of the three years she’d been there, to go back to parents who didn’t have time or interest in her, anyway. The only reason she’d been allowed home from Bendlemaier now was because of Will’s wedding.
“Don’t worry about Sara,” she said smoothly. Her roommate was at the exclusive school on scholarship, and despite the differences between them, they’d become good friends. “Your sister’s still as pure as the driven snow,” Annie went on. “And in a few short months, we’ll graduate from that godforsaken prison and be out of there altogether.” She smiled. “I’ll be eighteen and you’ll be, what? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? Come on, Logan. It’s only a few months away. Weeks, really. Don’t be so uptight.”
His eyes narrowed. “So what do you propose here, Annie? Go into the boathouse? We’ll just pull that excuse for a dress you’re wearing up another three inches and go at it, just because you think I want you? You’re my friend’s kid sister and I don’t care what you think I do or don’t want. If you want to get laid, go find that sleaze, Drago. He’s probably still hiding out there in the woods. I’m not interested.”
Without a second glance, he strode up the walk.
Annie leaned back against the stucco again, his words ringing in her head. There was truth in Logan’s words. She was selfish. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it.
She looked out over the narrow gleam of water beyond the end of the dock. More laughter and cheering echoed on the night air.
If it hadn’t been for Logan, who knew what Drago might have done? Logan was the only one who’d noticed her absence, the only one who’d thought to investigate, and he didn’t even like her.
It was pathetic.
She should have just stayed at Bendlemaier.
She swallowed past the knot in her throat and pushed away from the boathouse. She kicked off her shoes and they disappeared into the night to land silently somewhere in the thick green grass.
Then she walked around to the front of the boathouse and went inside where the catering crew had stored the cases of champagne.
Nobody would miss another bottle.
Chapter One
There was no mistaking the sound of breaking glass.
Annie closed her eyes at the latest shatter and ordered her nerves to stop jumping all over the place. She didn’t even really need to open her eyes to move to the rear portion of the shop, though she did. She knew every corner, every surface, inside and out. But considering how edgy she’d been for the past two days, it wouldn’t have surprised her greatly if she did run into one of the chrome-and-glass display racks as she moved.
She stepped through the doorway that separated the stock-and workroom from the retail front of Island Botanica and took in the scene with a glance.
Bunches of lavender, rosemary and California poppy hung drying from the large grid-shaped rack suspended from the ceiling. And below the colorful, fragrant display a teenaged girl stood in the midst of broken dark-green glassware. “Are you hurt?”
Her niece looked down at the mess around her heavy leather boots. “That’s the third bottle I’ve broken.” Riley’s voice sounded thick, as if she were near tears.
There were no signs of blood and Annie’s heart began to settle again. She shrugged and plucked the broom from the hook on the wall and began sweeping up the shards. “It happens,” she said calmly. “Particularly with a concrete floor.” She realized her hands were trembling and tightened them around the broom handle. “Sara and I have joked about having the floor in here padded with foam because we’ve broken so many things.” She smiled a little. “Too impractical. At least concrete’s easy to sweep.”
The dozen bracelets around Riley’s slender wrist jangled as she tucked her waving blond hair behind her ears. She stepped out of the way as Annie swept. “Dad’ll pay for whatever I damage.”
Annie’s heart clutched a little at that. Since she’d unexpectedly shown up on Annie’s doorstep two days ago, Riley had not voluntarily mentioned either one of her parents. Annie had been the one to insist on calling Will and Noelle to let them know their daughter was safe.
As safe as she could be given that she was in Annie’s company.
She stopped sweeping for a moment. Started to reach out and touch Riley’s arm, but stopped.
Instead, she bent over the dustpan and swept the broken glass into it. Riley hadn’t been thrilled when Annie had insisted on calling her parents, but she hadn’t bolted, at least. “Don’t be silly. Nobody has to pay for anything.”
“Except you and Sara, cause now you can’t sell that.” The girl jerked her chin at the rain of glass that tumbled from the dustpan when Annie tipped it over the large garbage can. “Dad said you guys are barely keeping your heads above water.”
“Well, a broken bottle or two isn’t going to ruin us,” she said dryly. “It’s all right, Riley. Truly.” She began sweeping over the floor once more for good measure. “Why don’t you finish unpacking that crate of bottles and then we’ll break for lunch.”
Riley’s blue gaze flicked above Annie’s head and she knew the girl was looking at the plain round clock on the wall. “A little early for lunch, isn’t it?”
Annie shook the dustpan over the garbage can again before putting it and the broom back. “One of the perks of being an owner. Lunch whenever we want. I’ll take you over to Maisy’s Place. The cook there does a great lunch, and maybe we can still sit outside if the rain holds off.” She managed a smile, feeling lighter at the prospect. Trying to keep Riley occupied in the shop all morning had been harder than she’d expected. But the shop needed tending, even on a stormy day, and she hadn’t wanted to leave Riley alone. “Let me know when you’re finished with that crate.”
Threat of tears apparently gone, Riley nodded and reached again into the packing material that surrounded each bottle in the wooden crate. After a moment, Annie made herself go back out to the front of the shop. Riley didn’t need her looking over her shoulder.
It was quiet that morning, much as she’d expect it to be in the middle of the week. Turnabout’s small tourist trade picked up around the weekends, and the herbal shop, Island Botanica, Annie owned with her friend Sara Drake, picked up business then as a result.
Thank goodness for their mail-order trade, she thought faintly. If not for that exceptionally successful portion of their business, Will’s opinion would have been borne out, and there would probably be no shop at all. Which was an unbearable thought.
She picked up a dusting cloth and moved across the light pine floor to the display cases at the window. The shop was small but still had an airy, simple and clean feel to it that Annie loved as much now as she had when she and Sara had opened it five years earlier.
Sitting atop the clear glass shelves were their trademark green glass bottles, jars and matching tubes. A person could get almost everything from tonics to perfume at Island Botanica, and all of it was made right there on Turnabout Island. She turned a bottle so the silver print on the narrow ivory label could be seen more clearly and dashed her rag over a fingerprint smudging the shelf.
She glanced through the windows lining the front of the shop, glad to see the sidewalk was still dry, then looked up at the dark clouds in the sky. If it hadn’t been the middle of the week, she suspected that the threatening weather would have chased off any prospective customers, anyway. There was a storm moving in, no doubt about it.
Turnabout Island often had drizzly days, and the climate was ideal for the fertile fields that supplied the shop. But it wasn’t all that often they had such threatening clouds hovering overhead as they’d had for the past several days.
The clouds had rolled in the same day Riley had arrived. Annie had been a mess of nerves, dread and euphoria ever since. Her niece had run away from home, but instead of disappearing completely, she’d come to Annie.
Annie still didn’t really know why.
She twisted the cloth in her hands, turning toward the door as she heard the soft, tinkling bell that signaled someone entering. Her gaze had barely caught a glimpse of height and gleaming brown hair when Riley came in from the back.
“Auntie Annie, I’m finished with the—” Riley’s voice stopped cold.
Annie glanced at her. “Great, Riley. Thanks. Just sit tight for a minute while I take care of—” Her own voice broke off at the sight of their visitor. Her foot fell back a step and she bumped into one of the display cases after all. Bottles jangled ominously but she was so rooted in shock she didn’t even reach back to steady them. “Logan?”
“I warned them,” her niece said, lips tight. “I warned them not to come after me. So he sent you instead. I’m not stupid, you know. I recognize you from Mom and Dad’s wedding pictures.”
The man drew his eyebrows together as he continued watching Riley. “Excuse me?”
Riley didn’t lose her mutinous expression.
Annie felt as though her jaw must be near the floor as she gaped at the incomer. “Logan,” she said again. “Logan Drake?” It had been years since she’d seen him in the flesh. Years. She’d believed that he’d lost touch with Will shortly after Will and Noelle got married. And even though Sara had spoken of him from time to time, the sight of him was still like a flashback to another life. Another time.
Another Annie.
Finally, the man looked from Riley to her. “Hey, Annie.” The corner of his lips tilted and a fine spray of lines crinkled out from the corners of his unforgettably blue, thickly-lashed eyes. “It’s been a long time.”
Annie’s stomach dipped and swayed. She wasn’t sure who unnerved her more. Riley or Logan, who clearly wasn’t surprised to see her. “A long time,” she agreed faintly.
“You’re a friend of my dad’s,” Riley accused.
“Who’s your dad?”
Riley crossed her arms and stuck out her chin.
Annie started to push back her hair, realized she was still holding the dust cloth, and dropped it on the counter next to the cash register. “Logan—” even saying his name aloud felt odd “—this is m-my niece, Riley.”
“Will’s daughter?” Logan looked at the teen again. Assessing. “No kidding. Is he on the island, too?”
Riley rolled her eyes.
“No.” Annie quickly stepped closer to her niece. She didn’t entirely trust that Riley wouldn’t bolt. And though Annie knew the girl couldn’t get to the mainland from the island as easily as a person could hop a bus out of an ordinary town, she didn’t want to take any chances. She wanted Riley to go home, not run away again somewhere she couldn’t be found at all. “He and Noelle still live in Washington state,” she told him.
Then she looked at Riley, speaking quickly before whatever was forming on her niece’s lips could emerge. “This is Logan Drake. He might be an old friend of your dad’s, but he’s also Sara’s brother. I…I’m sure he’s here to see her and Dr. Hugo. He’s from Turnabout. Isn’t that right, Logan?”
His half smile didn’t waver. “I grew up here,” he confirmed.
“Bet you couldn’t wait to leave it. There’s hardly anything to do here, you know, even if it is part of California. There’s, like, only five cars on the entire island. It’s boring as hell.”
“Riley!” She sent Logan an awkward smile. It was true that Turnabout was not a large island. Situated well off the coast of California, it was barely eleven miles long and less than half that wide, with a single road almost exactly bisecting the island down the length. Annie didn’t own a car. Most people on the island didn’t and instead walked, rode bicycles, or occasionally zipped around in golf carts.
“Sara’s in San Diego for the week, I’m afraid,” Annie finally said. “She, uh, she didn’t say she was expecting you home.” Truth be told, Sara rarely talked about Logan anymore, and when she did it was to speculate over the source of the money he seemed to have—evidenced by the generous checks he’d occasionally send Sara’s way—or, more commonly, to bemoan his long absence.
