understand. And ditto. Definitely not in the market for any complications.”
“Good. Then there’s no problem.”
They understood each other. Which was fine. Perfect. They’d be neighborly, friendly. Nothing else.
Something deep inside him tried to throw up a penalty flag at that prospect, but he shoved it away and focused on doing what was smart, not what was desirable.
They were close to the island now, and, as he’d expected, the rickety old ferry suddenly got caught in the surging current that swirled around it. The craft lunged up, and then slammed back down. Despite the steadying presence of his hand on her shoulder, Lindsey couldn’t keep her feet totally grounded. She stumbled forward, falling against him with a startled cry.
Thank heaven he was there, or she might actually have tumbled over the railing into the drink. Instead, Mike caught her in his arms, holding her close, not content with a hand on her shoulder while the chop was this rough.
They both gasped, startled by the close call, the crazy weather, the sway of the boat. And, for Mike, by her nearness.
This wasn’t just the lining-up of certain body parts, he was actually holding her in his arms. One was wrapped around her waist, a hand cupping her hip, the other encircling her shoulders. Every inch of her touched every inch of him. Each cell in his body reacted, parts of him awakening that he’d thought would remain in hibernation at least until he’d made a place for himself on Wild Boar Island.
Uh-uh. Despite the cold air and the colder water, the rocking of the boat and the rolling of his stomach, he looked down into those big green eyes, felt the press of that soft, female form, and realized something.
This red-haired beauty was indeed going to be a complication. A very serious complication.
2
FOR THE PAST few years, ever since her best friend, Callie, had gotten married and moved to an island in the Great Lakes, Lindsey had promised to visit. More than once, she’d made plans to come for a week between semesters, or even a long weekend.
But something had always come up—schoolwork, research, her job. Once, there’d been a fellowship opportunity, another time she’d been offered a prestigious study abroad. For the past two summers, Lindsey had been asked to work seventy hours a week, rather than her usual fifty, to cover for one of the partners’ vacations. As much as she loved Callie, and wanted to get to know her husband, Billy, she’d just never been able to make it work, because of work.
Now, though, she was going, and nothing would stop her. Her friend needed her, and Lindsey wasn’t going to let Callie down. She hadn’t had many friends during her childhood; hell, she didn’t really have many now. Callie had always been the best of them, and still was.
The two of them had gravitated to each other in kindergarten, both poor kids who wore secondhand clothes and had firsthand chips on their shoulders. They’d dared anyone to look down on them. Of course, Callie’s parents had been loving and hardworking, and had done the best they could for their daughter.
Lindsey’s? Well, not so much. Neglectful would probably be the nicest way to refer to their parenting style. Emotionally abusive wouldn’t be too far off the mark.
She’d never seen much in the way of love in her own house, and hadn’t been entirely sure she recognized it when she later spotted it in Callie’s. Still, the two of them had been inseparable through high school graduation. After that, Callie had decided to stay close to home. Lindsey had been determined to go anywhere else, as long as it was someplace that didn’t include 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