an absolute dearth of trust, intimacy and tenderness. Like home.
She’d clawed her way into the Ivy League with sheer determination and excellent grades, being the poster child for poor-kid-makes-good. She’d worked hard, methodically controlling every aspect of her life, allowing nothing to distract her from her goals. Her parents hadn’t been around to see her succeed—her father had taken off more than a decade ago, and her mother had died when Lindsey was twenty.
Callie, though, had been there every step of the way, even if they only connected by phone. The disparate paths their lives had taken couldn’t ever change the genuine connection they had. They were sisters in every way except biologically.
Now, with a preemie baby in the hospital fighting to survive, the last thing Callie needed to worry about was whether she had a job to go back to in the fall. And Callie had been right to worry. Given its size, the Wild Boar Community School couldn’t go without a science teacher for an entire quarter.
Her friend was supposed to have given birth at the end of the school year, and then have the summer off for maternity leave. Now, though, with almost another full grading term to go, the school board had been panicked. Nobody on the island was qualified to teach the wide variety of science classes, and nobody off it would be willing to move for just a short-term position. So they’d informed her friend that if she had to take more time off work than her allotted leave, they might have to hire a full-time replacement and try to find another spot for Callie the next school year.
As a result, Callie had spent too many hours worrying about her job, when she should be worried only about her health and her son. Lindsey was not about to let her expend any more energy on career woes. If Lindsey hadn’t been forced into her not-so-voluntary sabbatical, she might not have been able to work it out. As it was, though, she had the time and the desire to help.
Since it was a substitute position and they were under pressure to hire someone quickly, there hadn’t been too many hoops for Lindsey to jump through. The school officials had confirmed she had a Bachelor’s Degree from Johns Hopkins, with a double major in Chemistry and Biology, and leaped on her offer to be a short-term sub. They didn’t even know about her PhD.
Only after she’d agreed to do it had she realized Wild Boar Island might also be the answer to her own prayer. Callie’s remote slice of heaven, which she’d always gushed about in her emails and phone calls, had internet access and TV, but, as far as her friend knew, they weren’t talking about Dr. Lindsey Smith and her Thinkgasms. The administrators hadn’t said a word about it during her phone interview, or questioned why she was not currently employed. She suspected they subscribed to the don’t-look-a-gift-horse-in-the-mouth adage. It was entirely possible she’d actually found a place in the country where she wasn’t being laughed at or whispered about.
“Oh, please let that be true,” she mumbled, tired beyond belief of being fodder for the scandal-happy, soft-story media.
Even if it wasn’t, she’d still have come to the island. Callie needed her. Not many people had ever needed her, and Lindsey wasn’t about to turn away someone she loved who so desperately did.
So for the next several weeks, she would help her dearest friend, keep herself busy so she didn’t stress and anguish over the mess her professional life had become, and hide out from the tabloid journalists who had nothing better to do than stalk a psychologist who liked talking about orgasms. In that respect, Wild Boar Island did sound like a piece of heaven.
At least, until she started to drive across it.
“Have you people never heard of blacktop?” she grumbled as she drove away from the ferry landing, her bones jarring with every bounce of her Prius on the roughly graveled drive.
She’d gotten directions to her rental cottage from her new landlady—whom Callie had put her in touch with—figuring there wasn’t much chance of getting lost on this spit of land. Still, nothing was marked and her pampered hybrid was already unhappy.
Her cell phone rang, and she pushed a button on her steering wheel to answer it, using the car’s Bluetooth since she had to keep her hands right where they were. It was her friend. “Callie, what have you gotten me into? I’ll bet there’s not one charging station on this island.”
“You’d win that bet. But give it a chance—you’ll love it.”
“Love” might be an exaggeration, but she would do it because she’d promised Callie. “How are you doing? You sound tired.”
“I’m fine. Does any new mother sleep well?” Callie sniffed. “Even one who doesn’t have to get up for nightly feedings?”
That sniffle indicated tears, and the comment had revealed a lot about what her friend was feeling. For Callie, not being able to hold her son was probably the second-hardest part of this ordeal—after not knowing if he would live or die.
“You’ll be doing that soon enough. Right now, rest and get better. You’ll need your energy when that sweet boy comes home.”
Callie cleared her throat. Lindsey could almost see her petite, curly-haired friend blinking away tears and straightening her shoulders. “So update me. How was the ferry crossing?”
“Hideous. Painful. Awful. This is not the heaven you described.” Then, wanting to cheer her friend up—and to distract her—she said, “Though, I have to admit, I did meet a man who looked like a male angel. Or, well, maybe hot, sinful devil would be a more appropriate comparison.”
Mike, the guy she’d met on the ferry, had been so dark and seductive with all that thick, windblown brown hair; the deep-set, chocolate-brown eyes; square jaw and powerful body. His height had made her feel positively petite, though she stood five-foot-seven. And his mouth was something that should have been carved by an artist. Pretty couldn’t describe such masculine lips. No, they were...perfect.
No doubt, he’d looked nothing like a safe, innocent seraphim and everything like a wicked, sultry devil sent to seduce women out of their clothes and their good sense. Yum.
“Ooooh! Do tell!”
“This superhot, brown-haired guy was on the ferry, too, and he saved my life.”
“Did you fall overboard?” Callie squealed.
“Well, no, but I definitely considered leaping.”
“I understand. It’s a lousy mode of transportation. Now spill on this guy. What was his name?”
“Mike.”
“Last name?”
“I never got it.”
Callie harrumphed. “You so suck at this. Hmm. Mike, brown-haired Adonis? Not ringing a bell. Why didn’t you get his full name? Or at least make plans to get together for wild-monkey sex?”
Ahh, Lindsey was glad she’d been able to distract Callie, and that her friend was now feeling better.
“No time. He hurried off the ferry before I had the chance to do either of those things.”
Mike had apparently ridden across to the mainland without his car. As soon as they’d docked, he’d gotten a call on his cell phone. His frown as he’d answered said the call was a serious one. Assuring her they’d see each other soon, he’d said goodbye and hurried off the boat, heading toward a big
