Virginia Kantra - Sea Fever (Children of the Sea, Book 2)

Sea Fever By Virginia Kantra BERKLEY SENSATION, New York Berkley Sensation Titles by Virginia Kantra SEA WITCH SEA FEVER HOME BEFORE MIDNIGHT CLOSE UP Anthologies SHIFTER (with Angela Knight, Lora Leigh, and Alyssa Day) OVER THE MOON (with Angela Knight, MaryJanice Davidson, and Sunny) To Phyllis S. Kantra and Robert A. Kantra Thanks, Mom and Dad

Carter (ret.), Martin Urda, M.D., and all the experts who patiently gave well-thought-out responses to the most unlikely scenarios. To my niece Marie for letting me borrow her tattoo. To Jean and Will, Andrew, and Mark, who as deadline approached probably thought that their mother had been kidnapped by demons or possibly possessed. And to Michael. Id be lost without you. K. K.

CHESTERTON, THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains the hottest blood of all,and the wildest, the most urgent. D. H. LAWRENCE One THE NIGHT THE ONLY ELIGIBLE MAN ON THE island got married, Regina Barone got drunk. Getting laid would have been even better. Regina looked from Bobby Kincaid, whose eyes had taken on the wet glaze of his beer bottle, to fifty-three-year-old Henry Tibbetts, who smelled like herring, and thought, Fat chance. Anyway, on an island with a year-round population of eleven hundred, a drunken hookup at a wedding reception could have serious consequences.

Regina knew all about consequences. She had Nick, didnt she? The wedding tents tiebacks fluttered in the breeze. Through the open sides, Regina could see the beach where the happy couple had exchanged their vows a strip of shale, a tumble of rocks, a crescent of sand bordering the restless ocean. Not your typical destination wedding. Maine, even Maine in August, was hardly Saint Croix. Regina hefted a tray of dirty glassware and then spotted her son, standing beside her mother at the edge of the dance floor, jigging from foot to foot.

She felt her mouth and shoulders relax. The glasses could wait. Setting down her tray, she crossed the big white tent. Hey, good-looking. Eight-year-old Nick turned, and she saw herself in miniature: dark, Italian eyes; thin, expressive face; big mouth. Regina held out both her hands.

Want to show me what youve got? Nicks initial wariness dissolved in a grin. Antonia Barone took his hand. Her mother was in full Mayor Mode a hard red slash of lipstick and her two-piece navy dress. We were just about to leave, Antonia said. Their eyes clashed. One dance. One dance.

I thought you had work to do, Antonia said. Ever since Regina had offered to cater this wedding, her mother had been bitching about her priorities. Its under control. Do you still want me to watch him tonight? Regina suppressed a sigh. Yeah. Thanks.

But Id like to have a moment first. Please, Nonna, Nick added. Its not my decision, Antonia said, her voice suggesting it damn well should be. Do what you want. You always do. Not recently, Regina muttered as they moved away.

But for the next ten minutes, she enjoyed the sight of Nick hopping and sliding, clapping and turning, laughing and carrying on like any other eight-year-old. The music shifted and slowed. Couples took their turn on the floor. And Regina, her sandal straps biting into her toes, delivered Nick back to her mother. Midnight for us, kiddo. You go home in the pumpkin coach with Grandma.

He tipped his head up to look at her. What about you? Regina brushed his dark hair back from his face, letting her hand rest a moment on his smooth cheek. Ive got to work. He nodded. Love you. Love you. Love you.

She watched them leave the white rental tent and climb the hill toward the parking lot, her square mother and skinny son casting long shadows on the park grass. The setting sun lingered on the crest, firing the bushes to fuchsia and gold like the enchanted roses in a fairy tale. It was one of those summer evenings, one of those days, that almost made Regina believe in happy endings. Not for her, though. Never for her. She sighed and turned back to the tent.

Her feet hurt. Mechanic Bobby Kincaid was tending bar for the free beer and as a favor to Cal. Bobby earned good money in his fathers garage. These days every sixteen-year-old on the island with lobster money burning a hole in his pocket had to have a car. Or a pickup. Regina sidestepped as Bobby attempted to grab her ass.

Too bad he was such a jerk. Hi, Bobby. She snagged a bottle of sparkling wine from the ice-filled cooler and wrestled the wire cage around the cork. Lets do a quick refill of all the glasses, and then I want those cake plates off the tables. Hey, now, rumbled a deep male voice behind her. Youre off duty.

Reginas heart beat faster. She turned. Strong, tanned hands, steady green eyes, and a limp hed picked up in Iraq. Police Chief Caleb Hunter. The groom. Plucking the bottle of Prosecco from her grasp, Caleb filled a rented champagne flute and offered it to her.

Youre a guest. We want you to enjoy yourself tonight. I am enjoying myself. Any chance to serve something besides red sauce and lobster rolls... The menus great, Cal said. Everythings great.

Those crab patties Mini blue crab cakes with chipotle aioli and roasted red pepper sauce, Regina said. are really something. You did good. His eyes were warm. Regina flushed all over at the compliment. She had done well.

With less than a month to plan and prepare, with only a clueless bride and the grooms awkward sister for support, Regina had pulled off the wedding shed never had. The rented tent was warm with lantern light, bright with delphinium, daisies, and sunflowers. Crisp white linens covered the picnic tables, and shed dressed up the folding chairs from the community center with flowing bows. The foodher food, mussels steamed in garlic and white wine, bruschetta topped with basil and tomatoes, smoked wild salmon with dilled crme frache was a huge success. Thanks, she said. I was thinking I might talk Ma into adding some of these appetizers to our regular menu.

The mussels, maybe, or Great, Cal repeated, but he wasnt listening any longer. His gaze slid beyond her to his bride, Maggie, dancing with his father. Margreds dark hair had slipped free of its pins to wave on her neck. Shed kicked off her shoes so that the hem of her flowing white dress dragged. She was looking up at Calebs father, laughing as he executed a clumsy turn on the floor. The naked intensity in Cals eyes as he watched his wife closed Reginas throat.

In her entire life, no man had ever looked at her like that, as if she were the sun and the moon and his entire world wrapped up in one. If anyone ever did, she would jump him. If Cal ever had But he hadnt. Wouldnt. Ever. Go dance, Regina said.

Its your wedding. Right, Caleb said, already moving. He turned back a moment to smile at her and order, No more work tonight. We hired the youth group to give you a break. You know you have to watch those church kids like a hawk, Regina called after him. But that was just an excuse.

The truth was she would rather schlep glasses and scrape plates than have the same conversations shed had before with the same people shed known all her life. Hows the weather? Hows your mother? When are you getting married? Oh, God. She watched Cal circling the dance floor with his new brideslowly, because of his limp and emptiness caught her under the ribs, sharp as a cramp. Grabbing her glass and the open bottle of Prosecco, she walked away from it all, the music, the lights, and the dancing. Away from Bobby behind the bar and Caleb with his arms around Margred. Reginas heels punched holes in the ragged strip of grass.