a kid, he’d envied the boisterous activity that went on just up the road at Rose Cottage. He’d been a bit of a nerd, far too studious for his own good, and way too much of an introvert to ask to be included in the impromptu gatherings that seemed to be going on all the time whenever the four granddaughters were in town. Besides, those four beautiful girls had drawn admirers from at least two counties. Josh hadn’t stood a chance.
He’d matured a lot in the years since then, in both attitude and physique. He’d found a sport he loved— tennis—and a gym he hated but used regularly. A brilliant student, he’d gained confidence in law school, then added to it when he’d been selected for Richmond’s most prestigious law firm. Beautiful women no longer intimidated him. Nor did money and power.
Knowing that he could have it all—lovely, well-connected Stephanie Lockport Williams, the money and the power—had somehow been enough. Discovering that he didn’t want any of it had been the shocker.
That’s why he was here, in fact, to wrestle with himself over how incredibly stupid it might be to throw it all away. He was having far fewer second thoughts today, now that the breakup with Stephanie had gone so smoothly and left him feeling so thoroughly relieved. It had made him wonder if the timing wasn’t precisely right for a lot of dramatic changes in his life.
He was up at dawn, anxious to get out on the water, where he could while away the morning fishing…or pretending to. He rushed through breakfast, put away the few clothes he’d brought along, then made a quick call to his folks to let them know he was settled in.
Eventually, armed with bottled water, a sandwich, a fishing pole and bait, he headed for the bay where it lapped against the shoreline at the back of his family’s property. He climbed into the seaworthy old boat at the end of the dock and pushed off. Paddling just far enough away from shore to sustain the pretense that he was at sea, he dropped anchor, cast his line, then leaned back, his old fishing hat pulled low over his eyes.
He was just settling down, content with the warmth of the fall sun against his bare skin, when something crashed into the boat, tilting it precariously and very nearly sending him over the side. The splashing of icy water all over his heated skin was as much a shock as the collision.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t all that surprised when he peered over the bow to see Ashley with her face buried in her hands, the paddle floating about three feet away from her kayak.
He couldn’t help chuckling at her crestfallen expression. “You know, if you wanted to see me again, all you had to do was call. If you keep ramming into me like this, I’m not going to have any modes of transportation left.”
“Obviously I am completely out of control on land or sea,” she said in a tone that bore an unexpected edge of hysteria.
Josh stared at her. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. Fine,” she said at once, putting on a brave smile to prove it.
She was reasonably convincing, but Josh wasn’t buying it. She might be physically fine, but there was something else going on, something that had to do with this vacation she was taking with such obvious reluctance. Her sisters had alluded to it last night.
“Maybe you should come aboard,” he suggested, not liking the idea of her being on the water alone when she was obviously shaky. On closer inspection, he thought he detected traces of dried tears on her cheeks. Maybe if he focused on her turmoil, he could put off his own decisions.
“I have my kayak,” she protested.
“We can tie it up to the boat.” He gestured toward the paddle that was drifting rapidly away. “You won’t get far without that paddle, anyway.”
“Story of my life lately,” she muttered, but she held out her hand to take his, then managed to gingerly climb into the rowboat. “You’re very brave, you know.”
“For taking you in like this?”
“Exactly. I’m obviously a danger to myself and everyone around me.”
“Something tells me that’s a relatively new condition,” he said, keeping his gaze away from her, hoping she would feel free to tell him what was going on that had her behaving with what he suspected was uncharacteristic carelessness.
“I suppose,” she conceded.
To his disappointment, she stopped right there. He decided not to press. Instead he asked, “Know how to bait a hook?”
She regarded him skeptically. “With what?”
“Shrimp.”
She nodded. “That’s okay, then. If you’d said worms, I’d have jumped overboard and swum home.”
“Squeamish, huh?”
“No, absolutely not,” she said at once, rising to the challenge with predictable indignation.
“Some sort of animal-rights stance?” he taunted.
A faint flicker of amusement lit her eyes for the first time since they’d met.
“Hardly,” she said. “They’re just… I guess messy de scribes it.”
“Then I can assume you won’t be cleaning any fish we catch for supper?”
“I don’t expect to catch any,” she said, even as she gingerly dangled the baited hook over the side of the boat, then studied the line with total concentration. After a minute, she glanced at him and asked, “Do you do this every day?”
“Every day I can. I get some of my best thinking done out here on the bay.”
“You’re not bored?” she asked wistfully.
Josh bit back a grin. Maybe that was the trouble with Ms. Ashley D’Angelo. She didn’t know the first thing about relaxing. Even now on this beautiful fall day surrounded by some of the most glorious scenery on earth, she was obviously edgy and uptight.
He studied her intently for a minute, trying not to let his gaze linger on those endless bare legs. He certainly couldn’t spot any other flaws. Maybe he could help her work on the relaxation thing.
“I’m never bored,” he told her. “I like my own company.”
“No significant other?”
“I’ve been seeing a woman,” he admitted. “But I’ve just recently reached the conclusion that she’s not significant. She’s a great woman, just not right for me. We broke it off last night.”
“Last night?” she asked, obviously startled.
“I called her after I got home from dinner at your sister’s.”
She seemed to be wrestling with that information. He waited to see if she’d ask if there was a connection, but she didn’t.
After studying him with undisguised curiosity, she eventually asked, “How did you conclude that the relationship was over?”
“I was faced with fishing or cutting bait, so to speak. It was time to get married…or not. I couldn’t see myself with her forever. Fortunately, as it turned out, she couldn’t see that, either.”
“Is there something wrong with her?”
“Absolutely not. She’s beautiful, intelligent, well-connected. She’ll be a dream wife for the right man.”
“But not you?”
“Not me,” he confirmed.
“If beautiful, intelligent and well-connected aren’t right for you, then what kind of woman do you want?”
“I’m still figuring that out,” he admitted. “Offhand, though, I’d have to say one who’s comfortable in her own skin, someone who knows who she is and what she wants.”
“And this woman isn’t like that?”
“She is.” He shrugged.