boat before he catches his death of cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Relieved to have an excuse to force her to do what she’d been half wanting to do, anyway, Alice walked to her house, filled a container with some of her homemade beef vegetable soup, added a loaf of her home-baked bread to the basket, and headed right back to Patrick Devaney’s private, No Trespassing dock.
Once there, she took a certain perverse pleasure in pushing open the flimsy gate and making a lot of noise as she approached his trawler. She wasn’t the least bit surprised when he emerged from below deck with a scowl already firmly in place.
“Which part of ‘stay away’ didn’t you understand?” he inquired, leaping gracefully onto the dock and blocking her way.
“I figured it didn’t apply to me, since I come bearing gifts,” she said cheerfully, holding out the soup and bread as she took note of the fact that there were several new boards in place underfoot. “You never mentioned the fact that you were in that freezing ocean because of me—”
“Because of Ricky,” he corrected.
She shrugged at the distinction. “I thought some hot soup might ward off a chill. I don’t want it on my conscience if you get sick because of what happened. Besides, I need to thank you for going to see Mrs. Dowd this afternoon. She was impressed.”
His mouth curved into an arrogant grin that made her heart do an unexpected flip.
“I don’t get sick,” he informed her. “And I didn’t go by the school to impress Loretta Dowd.”
“Which makes it all the more fascinating that you did,” she replied. “As for your general state of good health, having some nutritious soup won’t hurt.”
“You casting aspersions on Molly’s chowder?”
“Hardly, but you must be tired of that by now.”
The grin faded. “Meaning?”
She faltered. She hadn’t meant to admit that she knew anything about his habits. “She says you’re there a lot, that’s all.”
“You asked about me?” He didn’t even attempt to hide his surprise.
The arrogant tilt to his mouth returned, and Alice saw a faint hint of the charming boy he’d once been. She wasn’t here to inflate his already well-developed ego, though. “I most certainly did not,” she said. “Molly tends to volunteer information she thinks will prove helpful.”
He sighed at that. “Yeah. I keep talking to her about that. She seems to think she can save me from myself if she gets enough people pestering me.”
“What do you think?” Alice asked curiously.
“That I don’t need saving.”
She laughed. “I keep telling her the same thing. It hasn’t stopped her yet. Now we’ve both got Loretta Dowd meddling in our lives. She’s the one who insisted on the soup. We’re probably doomed.”
“Don’t remind me,” he said. “I imagine Mrs. Dowd will want to know exactly how polite I was when you came over here. She and Caleb Jenkins will probably compare notes.”
“How on earth did Caleb get involved in this?” Alice asked.
“He thought I should speak to Mrs. Dowd on your behalf.”
“Ah, that explains the trip to the school. I guessed it wasn’t your idea.”
“Oh, I suppose I would have come around to it sooner or later on my own,” he claimed. “The point is, there are any number of fascinated bystanders in this town. I’ll hear about it if I act ungrateful and send you away.” He pushed off from the railing and held out his hand. “You want to come aboard and share a bowl of that soup? Looks to me like there’s plenty for two.”
Alice hesitated. Wasn’t this the real reason she’d come, to see if she and Patrick Devaney had as much in common as it seemed? Wasn’t she here because of that feeling of kinship that had sparked to life in her earlier?
“Are you sure?” she asked. “You don’t seem very receptive to company.” She nodded toward the No Trespassing sign.
He gave her a steady, intense look. “It doesn’t apply to invited guests, and where you’re concerned, I’m not sure of anything,” he said in a way that sent a surprising shiver of awareness racing over her.
“Want to wait till you are?” she asked, startled by the teasing note in her own voice. She almost sounded as if she were flirting with him. Of course, it had been a long time, so maybe she wasn’t being as obvious as she thought.
“Hell, no,” he said, grinning. “I’ve gotten used to living dangerously.”
Alice laughed, then reached out to accept his outstretched hand as she stepped onboard. She noted that unlike the previously decrepit dock, the boat was spotless and in excellent repair. Every piece of chrome and wood had been polished to a soft sheen. Fishing nets were piled neatly. Apparently Patrick Devaney used the time he didn’t spend socializing or shaving to pay close attention to his surroundings.
Below deck in the small cabin, it was the same. The table was clear except for the half-filled coffee cup from which he’d apparently been drinking. The bed a few feet away was neatly made, the sheets crisp and clean, a navy-blue blanket folded precisely at the foot of the bed.
Moving past her in the tight space, Patrick took a pot from a cupboard, poured the soup into it and set it on the small two-burner stove, then retrieved two bowls and spoons from the same cupboard. Alice was all too aware of the way he filled the cramped quarters, of the width of his shoulders, of the narrowness of his hips. He’d filled in since his football-playing days, but he was definitely still in shape. It was the first time in ages she’d recognized the powerful effect pure masculinity could have on her.
From the moment she’d lost her parents, nearly a year ago, she’d gone into an emotional limbo. She let no one or nothing touch her. She even kept a barrier up between herself and her students, or at least she had until Ricky Foster had scared the living daylights out of her this afternoon. Nothing had rattled her so badly since the night the police had called to tell her that her parents had driven off that road they’d traveled a thousand times in all kinds of weather.
Don’t go there, she thought, forcing her attention back to the present. One appreciative, surreptitious glance at Patrick’s backside as he bent to retrieve something from the tiny refrigerator did the trick. It was all she could do not to sigh audibly at the sight.
Don’t go there, either, she told herself very firmly. She was here for penance and for soup. Nothing more. A peek at Patrick Devaney sent another little shock of awareness through her and proved otherwise.
Oh, well, there was certainly no harm in looking, she decided as she sat back and enjoyed the view. Even a woman living in a self-imposed state of celibacy had the right to her fantasies, and any fantasy involving Patrick Devaney should definitely not be dismissed too readily.
Chapter Three
Patrick wasn’t sure what had possessed him to invite Alice
