A Woman To Blame (12 page)

Then there was Bryn.

Despite their strong differences of opinion, he knew the sexual attraction between Bryn and him could not be denied. He knew it as well as he knew his reef charts. As for the rest of Bryn's life, that was none of his business. Especially the mess over the restaurant conversion. If she insisted on demolishing Pappy's Crab Shack simply to hang a few copies of Monet and serve expensive wine, so be it. When she left Malabar Key, and she would, he would see what he could do to help Pappy.

In the meantime, if she wanted to wrap those gorgeous legs around him and sail off with him to heaven for a few lost hours, he could accept that too. But that was it! All he wanted was to feel the pressure of her knees hugging his hips, to see her head thrown back in ecstasy, and to hear her crying out with pleasure before he melted into her essence.

"Cripes, Pappy, what have they been feeding you in that hospital? Stones?" Rick asked while he and Jiggy carried the old man in his wheelchair up the stairs.

"Tasted like stones. Careful you don't flip me out of this," he said, his knuckles tense and white on the armrests.

From the restaurant's upper entrance, Bryn bit back advice, but gave in to the urge to direct the maneuvers with her hands. When they lowered the wheels to the floor and set the brake, she breathed a loud sigh of relief.

"Rrrrawkk!
Oh, baby, baby, baby!"

Pappy turned to his right to look at Jiggy. "You had Miss Scarlett at your place, didn't you?"

"Hey, Pappy. How'd you know that?" Jiggy asked, nervously patting the old man's arm.

"Because the evangelist I got her from never taught Miss Scarlett anything but scripture. And I wouldn't let anyone talk that way around her." Pappy slapped Jiggy's hand away. "I leave for a while, and when I get back, my bird's talking like she's been watching X rated stuff. Is there nothing sacred to the younger generation? And look at Bryn. She's red as Miss Scarlett's feathers!"

Just when Bryn thought she'd survive the flashback to Rick's total body kiss, Miss Scarlett let loose with another bawdy line. Bryn stole a quick glance in Rick's direction, and even though he was laughing with the others, his knowing gaze was there to meet hers. He had to be remembering that hot moment when his fingers came close to entering her. As insane as it seemed, his laughing with the others was the only acceptable thing he could do. The only acceptable thing
she
could do was roll her eyes in mock disapproval and wait for someone to change the subject. That someone was Rick.

"Come on, Jiggy, we've got work to do. Pappy, give me a call when you want to come down. We'll be over in a minute."

Bryn didn't know whether to feel relieved or hurt when Rick didn't look at her again before he headed down the stairs behind his employee. There were other, more important matters to concern herself with, she chided herself. "Ready, Grandfather?" she asked, getting behind his wheelchair.

"Am I ever!" he said, clapping his hands together.

Her hands were shaking as she rolled him around the screen carved with egrets and ibises and into the dining room. What she had to show him wasn't the macaroni necklace she'd made for him at age five or the pie-tin crown she'd presented to him that last Christmas before he left, but all things being equal, she felt the same anxiety. Hell, exacting real estate moguls in New York didn't produce this much trepidation. "Now, Grandfather, it's not finished. Those chairs are getting returned to the store because there's too much yellow in the room. Yellow is a very uplifting, cheerful color, but too much is too much."

Pappy Madison wasn't saying a thing.

"Try picturing tables filled with people, and piano music playing softly in the background." She kept on talking, knowing she was filling her need to justify the changes more than his need to understand the particulars. Pangs of desperation filled her chest, and no matter how cleverly she tried steering his thoughts, the moment of truth couldn't be put off any longer. Coming around the side of the chair, she squatted down by his good leg and patted it with a shaky hand. "Go on, you can tell me what you think. Be honest, Grandfather."

The old man leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers and pressing them against his mouth. Bryn attempted to read his reaction by studying the steady blue gaze beneath furry white brows. When her fears kept creeping in, she gave up, shut up, and waited. After a while he leaned back and grinned.

"Girl, you've been working awfully hard, haven't you?"

She nodded, trying to weigh the ambiguous remark in her favor with a matching grin. Both of their smiles, she realized, were strained attempts to please each other. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach.

"Yes, and I've enjoyed doing it for you, Grandfather."

"Hmm. Rick still giving you a ration about it?"

Standing slowly, she walked the few feet to the carved screen and began tracing the pencil-thin legs of an ibis with her fingertip. "He believes Chez Madison is too upscale for Malabar Key," she said, turning back to her grandfather. "You'd think he had a financial interest in the place."

Pappy Madison tugged on the wheels on his chair, turning himself first to the left and then the right. He cleared his throat noisily.

"He'd never admit it, Brynnie, but in a way he does have a financial interest."

"What?" She walked quickly back to the chair. "What are you saying? Is Rick your silent partner? Is that why he's so..." She stopped to think of the right word "...opinionated?" A huge range of new problems suddenly loomed as she considered his involvement. She settled down on her heels beside the old man again. "Is it?"

"Nothing formal as that. In fact, he'd be the first to insist he had nothing to do with Pappy's Crab Shack, but if it weren't for Rick, this place most likely would be just another expensive souvenir shop in a resort complex."

"But why?" she asked, dipping into that guarded well of curiosity, the one marked Rick.

"Remember a few years back when you didn't make it down for a visit because you took that business trip to Hong Kong? Well, Hurricane Lula paid us a visit instead. She didn't do diddly-squat to the rest of Florida, but she practically destroyed the Middle Keys. Until that happened, I'd been living in a fool's paradise and hadn't increased my insurance as I should have. A lot of us hadn't. I was about to give up and go live in the back country. Rick showed up with his checkbook and helped me put this place back together. He helped out just about everyone along Petticoat Channel. Of course, we've paid him back since then."

"Other people? He's never mentioned any of this to me," she said.

"Are you surprised at that, Brynnie?"

"I don't know enough about him, at least about his past, to be surprised one way or the other. Most of our conversations consist of shouting matches over the fund-raiser, or this place." She swallowed and looked away, remembering their other modes of communication.
Sometimes we don't talk at all.
Before the hot images could take over, she rushed on to another subject. "Does he make that much money off the fishing charters and boat slip rentals, or is he independently wealthy?"

Pappy eyed her carefully. "You told me you didn't want to hear about Rick. Have you changed your mind?"

Slowly getting to her feet, she pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her grandfather. "No, I haven't changed my mind. Just tell me about him where it concerns you and the restaurant," she said.

The old man nodded slowly. "Representatives from a major hotel chain came in the day after the storm and offered everyone on Malabar Key big bucks for their properties, or what was left of their properties. Let me tell you, Brynnie, people were torn in several different directions. Some wanted off the island for good, so those big offers looked mighty tempting; others simply didn't have the insurance to start rebuilding. I'm not talking about big businesses. I'm talking about the bathing suit shop, that mom-and-pop motels, you know, places like that. Ah, Brynnie, it was a terrible mess all around." The old man reached toward his elevated leg, rubbing the top of his thigh in silence.

"How are you feeling? Is your leg bothering you?"

Pappy continued staring at the place where the jukebox had been. "I'm okay." After a while, he looked up at Bryn as he slid a knuckle under one eye. "If we hadn't had Rick Parrish call that meeting at his house and insist everyone hold off making a decision for a few weeks, I don't know where we'd be today. He reminded us that we had a special piece of the American dream down here and that once we gave it up, we'd never get it back. He said those of us lucky enough to have children and grandchildren wouldn't be able to look them in the eye when they found out we sold out to a corporation. Reps from the hotel chain showed up at Rick's during another one of his meetings and tried taking it over. They yapped on and on that prosperity was sure to come for all of us in the wake of their bulldozers. When they handed Rick a check for his marina property, the whole room went dead silent. Guess those reps thought if they could get Rick, they'd have all of us." The old man paused to remember. Shaking his head, he said in a fierce whisper, "Damn, what a man."

What a man indeed, she thought, finally understanding why Rita and Millie and virtually everyone else she'd met had nothing but praise and adoration for Rick Parrish. He'd kept his head when the rest of them were consumed with fear. He'd stood up to big business and conquered them at their own game. He'd even taken money from his own pocket to back his cause. What she didn't understand was the reason behind Rick's legendary stand against the interlopers. It would be easy enough to ask her grandfather, but somehow she knew the answer had to come from Rick himself. "What happened next?"

Her grandfather winked. "You don't think he backed down, do you? No, siree. He tore up the check, tossed it over his deck rail, and showed them the quickest way off the key." Waving toward the breezy palms and the sparkling ocean, Pappy added, "You see, Rick knew we'd all regret it if we sold out this place. Thank God he wasn't in shock like the rest of us. He knew when to rally us, and even when a few looked as if they were going to cave, he was there with an understanding ear. Hell, Brynnie, he even put his money where his mouth was."

"How did he come up with enough?"

"I don't know and it didn't seem right to ask. And now it's not important because it's all paid back." He caught her gaze and held it steady. "At least, it's not important to me, Brynnie."

His cryptic silence had her more curious than ever, but the old man's shoulders were rounded with fatigue. And if she wanted to know more, she could ask Rick. Leaning forward in her chair, she took his hands in hers. "You're tired, aren't you?"

"A tad."

"I'll call Rick and Jiggy to come help us get you down the steps and back to your own bed. We never should have come straight here from the hospital." She was halfway to the phone behind the bar when he called to her.

"Brynnie, wait up."

"Yes?" she said, turning toward the odd tone.

"Why don't you walk over. I'd like to be alone here for a while, if you don't mind."

"Okay," she said, staring at his profile as he wheeled himself across the room. He'd never looked older or smaller or lonelier than he did at this moment. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She moved past him toward the stairs, but couldn't resist squeezing his shoulder. He caught her hand and pressed it to his cheek. "Brynnie, where's the jukebox?"

"I sold it."

His chin came up and he looked away. "Oh," he managed to whisper before swiping his nose with his other hand. "I'm sure it's still making music somewhere."

"Rick bought it."

The old man's head swiveled in her direction. "He did?" His shocked expression disappeared into a grin before laughter cackled out of him. "I should have known," he said, slapping his good leg. "That's good."

Why that pleased her grandfather so much, she didn't know. The important thing was hearing him laugh for the first time since she'd wheeled him into the dining room. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to leave him, and hide her own tears as she made her way down the stairs and through the palm grove toward Rick's marina.

Chapter 6

Two days later Rick couldn't get his mind off Bryn. She'd been strangely quiet the few times he'd managed to be in her presence, leaving him to worry if she was avoiding him for a particular reason. Realizing how consumed he was by her, he did what he always did when he felt the world coming a little too close. He dragged his telescope onto his back deck, angled it high over the water, and tried losing himself in another part of the Milky Way.