Authors: Greg Herren
“Since I’m a coffee addict, it’s odd I haven’t heard of her place. Especially since we moor the family yacht there during the season.”
“It’s on the waterfront, near the pier. Mike’s done a great job restoring it. It took her at least a year, since she did most of it with her own two hands.”
“Michaela Stone. It rings a bell—”
“I can introduce you. She’s succeeded where most people wouldn’t stand a chance. I think you’d appreciate her.”
“She sounds quite remarkable.”
“Want to get together at the café tomorrow after work?” Eryn held her breath, unable to believe what she’d just asked. “I’d like to see you again. Like this. In private.”
Shut up, Goddard. You’re making a fool of yourself.
Manon slowly removed the napkin from her lap with measured movements and placed it next to the bowl. She nodded toward their waiter and then focused on Eryn, a guarded expression in her dark green eyes. “So you think I’d like to meet this Mike Stone?”
That’s an elegant way of answering a question with another question, Belmont.
“I thought you might. You did say you love good java. Unless you’re busy.”
Manon didn’t show any emotion, though Eryn could practically hear the wheels turning as she considered the invitation. The muted light picked up the highlights in her shiny hair, making it shimmer. Eryn loved trying to decipher her enigmatic expressions.
“You said earlier you work long hours.” Manon’s eyes were impenetrable beneath her thick lashes. “Do
you
have time?”
“Sure,” Eryn answered readily, never one to dodge a direct question. “I’m working late tonight, but tomorrow I get off around six. I can be there in less than ten minutes.” She grinned, as much from nerves as from the possibility of seeing Manon again. “I’ll be the one in black leather.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Motorcycle outfit.”
“Oh.” A smile spread over Manon’s features. “I see. Well, I’ll be there. The old marina. Give me a call if something comes up, and I’ll do the same, all right?”
“Sure.”
Our plans, eh?
Eryn’s breath caught as Manon’s smile seemed to illuminate the entire room, pulling her in. With trembling fingers she reached into her purse for a business card and a pen. She scribbled down barely legible numbers. “Here’s my cell number and my new home number.”
“Thank you.” Manon glanced at it before putting it into her briefcase.
When the waiter showed up and handed Manon the check, Eryn shook her head, a credit card already in her hand. “This one’s on me.”
Manon hesitated only a second before handing the leather folder across the table. “Thank you. Lunch was delicious.”
Eryn was pleased that Manon didn’t argue. Their financial circumstances didn’t compare, but in all fairness, she had asked Manon to lunch.
Out on the sidewalk, Manon stopped and turned to Eryn. “Can I give you a ride?” She motioned toward the limousine parked nearby.
“No, I’m fine. I’m off to a photo shoot just around the corner. Thanks anyway.”
Manon squeezed Eryn’s hand firmly. “See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Eryn repeated. Her heart fluttered, and she recognized the weakness in her knees for what it meant. She was attracted to Manon Belmont.
*
Something cold and wet nudged Vivian’s cheek. Drowsy, she fumbled as she ruffled soft dog ears. “Hello, you. Good boy. Where’s your brother?” she whispered. Squinting, she made out Mason’s shape, but recognized him from the way he whimpered. He sat down and wagged his tail, thumping it on the hardwood floor. “Perry’s sleeping, as usual?”
As Vivian started to get up, a sudden, yet familiar, pain stabbed the back of her eyes. She blinked against the light filtering through the half-closed shades but saw only unrecognizable shifting patterns. Reaching for her anesthetic eyedrops, she accidentally knocked the bottle off the bedside table.
“Blasted thing,” she murmured, and sat up. “Mason, move. I have to…” She jerked the cord that pulled the blinds back completely and let the stinging sunlight in; tears began to stream down her cheeks. When she shifted carefully and tried to see where the small bottle had gone, the burning pain behind her eyeballs made her bite her lip to stifle a moan.
The phone rang, making her flinch. As she felt around for the receiver, she sent the sunglasses lying next to it to the floor with a clatter.
“Hello?”
“Vivian, this is Mike—”
“Mike. I really can’t talk now. I have to…” She gave a muted moan. “I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back?”
I sound like a perfect wimp!
“What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”
“It’s just…I need to use my medication and managed to knock it over.” Vivian knew the pain was evident in her voice despite her best efforts to remain calm. She slid down on the floor next to the bed and felt around with her free hand. “
Merde,
I can’t find it!”
“Don’t worry. The lunch crowd’s gone and I’ll come right over. I’ll be right there.” With a distinct click Mike hung up.
As Vivian held her hands over her eyes and tried to block the painful light, Mason whimpered. Then Perry loped into the bedroom and yelped. He licked her cheek and sat down next to her.
“Oh, boys.” She sighed. “I’m such a klutz. Where the hell is the stupid bottle?” She felt around with one hand. “Surely it didn’t roll very far. Maybe it’s under the bed.” She bent down to half crawl under the bed, but lowering her head only made the pain worse. Cursing under her breath, Vivian sat back up and leaned against the side of the bed. The floor was cold and she began to shiver.
She tugged at the covers behind her and, with Mason’s boisterous aid, pulled them down to wrap around her. She felt utterly vulnerable and silly where she sat, with her head tilted back, cheeks cold from her drying tears. “Mike said she was coming. She can help me look for the stupid bottle, isn’t that right, boys?”
The dogs woofed in response, making Vivian feel marginally comforted as she waited for Mike.
*
It seemed like forever, but Mike arrived at the beach house in only eleven minutes. Gasping for air, she banged on the door. When nobody answered, she ran to the back of the house and tried again at the glass doors she figured led into the master bedroom. “Vivian?” She listened for a response through the loud barking inside.
“The door’s locked and I can’t move yet,” a barely recognizable voice finally called. “There’s a spare key…under the rocks to the left of the front door.”
“Okay, I hear you.” Mike rushed back around front and dug under a display of decorative rocks and plants. Eventually finding a blue key, she grabbed it and opened the door. One of the dogs, she thought it was Perry, greeted her with a wagging tail.
“Vivian?”
“In here.” The overwrought voice led her to a disheveled bedroom. Vivian sat on the floor, huddled under some bedcovers.
“Are you hurt?” Mike said anxiously.
“No. I just…I just need my medication.”
“First of all, let’s get you off the floor. Here we go.” Mike slid her arms around Vivian to help her up. When she felt Vivian tremble she pulled her close and stroked her back. “Here. Into bed now.”
Once Vivian was comfortably settled against the pillows, Mike took in the pained expression on her face with alarm. Vivian’s eyes were pressed shut and her cheeks tear stained. “Tell me what’s going on. What do you need?”
“My medication is somewhere on the floor…but I can’t find it,” Vivian gasped, obviously trying to stay calm. “Maybe under the bed.”
Mike knelt and looked underneath but couldn’t see anything. Putting one cheek on the floor and peeking under the bedside table, she spotted a small white item. She sat up and pressed her shoulder against the sturdy table, moving it just enough to be able to reach the bottle. She handed it to Vivian. “You couldn’t have reached it on your own. Your eyes are blurry, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Vivian whispered. Her hands trembled as she gave the bottle back to Mike. “Can you help me? Normally I can do this on my own, but I’m in rather a lot of pain—”
“Of course.” Mike unscrewed the top of the bottle and found an eyedropper. “How many drops?”
“Two in each eye.” Vivian’s voice was barely audible.
Mike leaned over Vivian. “Try to look up.”
Vivian opened her eyes slowly, clearly wincing when the light and air hit her cornea. Quickly but carefully, Mike took the eyedropper and administered two drops in each eye. “Okay. You can shut your eyes again, I think.”
After Mike sealed the bottle and placed it on the nightstand, she remained nearer than necessary, telling herself it was because Vivian was even paler now. Her long hair, usually so neatly contained in a twist, lay tangled around her shoulders, reaching almost below her breasts. “Better?”
“In a minute or two.” Vivian sighed. “I want to rub my eyes, but that’s strictly forbidden.”
Mike thought she saw Vivian shiver. “Are you still cold?”
When Vivian nodded, Mike reached for a white comforter lying on the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her. “There you go.”
“Oh, God, that feels a lot better.” Vivian sighed again, her eyes still closed. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that today is a particularly bad day.”
“I can see that for myself.”
“I left rehearsals early. Right after Manon Belmont paid a visit. I hate canceling rehearsals but I just couldn’t go on.” The dismay was obvious in Vivian’s voice. A deep blue cashmere sweater hugged her above black slacks.
“What’s wrong, Vivian? It’s something with your eyes, right?”
“Yes. I won’t go into any boring details, but I’m pretty dependent on my medication. When the eyedrops start to work, I’ll have to take a battery of pills. Then I’m fine. I have to go back within the hour because I have to rehearse with a children’s choir this afternoon.” She opened her eyes slowly and blinked a few times before focusing on Mike. “Good Lord, you must have a million things to take care of at the café. And here you are looking after me. You should go back.”
“Don’t even think about it. I asked Martha and Edward to hold down the fort. I’ll help them later.” Mike hesitated, but couldn’t resist pushing the hair back from Vivian’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look exhausted.”
Vivian sat up straighter and smiled with obvious effort. “I’ll be fine.”
Taking in Vivian’s high cheekbones, her full lips, and the way her sweater clung to her form, Mike realized that Vivian Harding was probably the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Something forbidden, at least for her, constricted her throat and made it difficult to swallow.
Shaken, Mike recoiled. Her mind whirled in response to her body’s red alert.
It’s the way she looks. Fragile and helpless right now. I can’t forget that these things tend to change, and fast. The fragile become the furious.
As she rose she willed herself not to reveal her apprehension.
“Can I do anything else, Vivian? Make you some coffee or a snack?” She was backtracking while she spoke, eventually standing in the doorway, and felt her cheeks burn as Vivian shook her head.
“No, thank you,
cara
.”
The term of endearment hung between them, testing the last straw of Mike’s resolve. She took two more quick steps backward. “All right. I’ll be off, then. See you at the café later today? We serve great pies for the after-work crowd.” Mike knew she was babbling. She wanted to see Vivian later, but in a more…secure setting. This gorgeous woman’s bedroom wasn’t a safe place.
When Vivian swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, slightly wobbly, Mike resisted the urge to rush to her side.
“I’ll be there after rehearsal. Around five thirty or six.” Walking up to Mike, Vivian smiled. “I can’t thank you enough. May I impose on you by asking you to promise me something?”
Mike nodded, already guessing. “You want me to keep your eye problems a secret.”
“Mind reader. That’s exactly it. I won’t be able to hide anything much longer, but for now, before the concert, I need to keep my condition confidential. Thank you for understanding.”
Mike clasped her restless hands behind her back, though all she really wanted was to hug Vivian.
I’m never this mushy. What’s the matter with me?
“I never gossip,” she said, knowing she sounded short.
“Somehow I’m not surprised to hear that.”
“I’ll let myself out.” As Mike walked toward the door, a cold nose against the back of her knee made her jump. “Hey, Perry, or Mason, cut it out.” She smiled as the two dogs followed her to the door. “See you later, guys. Keep an eye on her, okay?”
The low woofs sounded enthusiastic but did little to alleviate Mike’s concern.
Manon parked her British racing green Lotus Elite at the far end of the nearly full parking lot.
Donning her sunglasses, she glanced around the marina at the people readying their boats for winter. She walked to the pier and saw an unpainted wooden building, its cast-iron sign swinging in the breeze. “Sea Stone Café,” Manon murmured, half smiling at her old habit of talking to herself. “Appropriate.”