The Great Escape

“You don’t deserve to know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

She did, and Lucy sprang up off the towel. “Are you sure about this?”

Temple glowered. “I thought you’d be happy. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Not exactly. But Lucy kept that thought to herself.

PANDA SLAPPED DOWN THE SCREWDRIVER as the doorbell rang. The only person he wanted to see right now was Lucy, and she wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell. He’d just finished wrestling with the kitchen table, and removing the bulky legs wasn’t going well.

On his way to the front door, he frowned at a cheap seascape hanging on the wall. He’d grown used to paintings disappearing and furniture mysteriously transporting itself from one room to another. Why hadn’t Lucy gotten rid of this? Worst of all was his pig. It still wore the same clown nose she’d stuck on it last week.

He reached the door and glanced through the sidelight. A bombshell blonde stood on the other side.

There was something familiar about her, although he knew they’d never met. Maybe it was her figure. Hard to forget a body like this. Big breasts, tiny waist, narrow hips. And spectacular legs, what he could see of them.

He tried to place her as he opened the door, but something about her appearance was throwing him off. Her long blond hair shouldn’t be pinned up so neatly, and she wore too many clothes.

Then he recognized her. His stomach sank.

She held out her hand. “You must be Mr. Shade. I’m Kristina Chapman.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled, as though they were sharing a private joke. “Dr. Kristi.”

Chapter Twenty-two

WOMEN EVERYWHERE, AND EACH ONE of them was a nightmare. Temple, with her dark moods; Dr. Kristi, who’d probably earned her counseling license over the Internet, although she insisted she was legit; Lucy, the biggest pain of all, living on the other side of the woods with Sabrina Remington, the daughter of the man he hated.

Nine days and not a word from her. Telling himself it had to end anyway didn’t help.

Temple came downstairs. She was red-eyed and passed him in the hallway without speaking. He didn’t like seeing her like this. “Let’s go for a run,” he said brusquely.

“Later.” She sagged into the living room chair and reached for the television remote.

Not long after, while he contemplated where he was going to find a table to fill the newly empty spot in the kitchen, he saw Dr. Kristi in the backyard with a book. She’d been swimming earlier, but instead of wearing her infamous red bikini, which would have provided him with at least some small compensation for putting up with her intrusion, she was wearing an unimpressive green-and-white one-piece.

Temple appeared in the kitchen on her way outside. He jerked his head toward the backyard. “You could have told me you were inviting her here. To my house.”

“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” Before he could disabuse her of that notion, she swept past him. “I’m going to the cottage.”

“Make yourself useful this time.”

“Bring her back yourself,” she retorted, just before she slammed the door.

He’d like nothing better than to do that, but then what? Lucy needed a happily-ever-after, something he wasn’t capable of delivering. Still, he had to see her before he left the island, although he had no idea what he’d say.

Through the window, he saw Temple approach Dr. Kristi, who closed her book and rose. He couldn’t hear what Temple said to her. He didn’t really care. He didn’t care about much these days.

LUCY WAS BRINGING A COUPLE of glasses of iced tea out to the farm stand when Temple appeared, followed by a tall, busty blonde who could only be Dr. Kristi. The psychologist wore a sleeveless green cover-up over a matching bathing suit. Her blond hair was slicked back from her face, setting off perfect cheekbones and plump, pouty lips.

Lucy had been expecting something like this for the past four days, ever since Temple had told her that she’d asked Dr. Kristi for help. Lucy had urged her to call someone reputable instead of the Fat Island shrink, advice Temple had obviously ignored.

Bree sat at the worktable she’d set up in the shade where she was furiously hand-painting the island lighthouse on one of her precious glass ornaments. She had less than two weeks to sell them. She straightened when she saw who’d arrived.

Temple was dressed in her customary yoga pants and tank. She plunged into introductions. “Kristi, this is my friend Lucy. And that’s Bree.”

Kristi nodded at Bree. “You’re the beekeeper. It’s a pleasure.” And then, to Lucy, “I’ve looked forward to meeting you, Ms. Jorik. Temple’s told me a lot about you.”

“None of it good.” Temple sprawled into the nursery-yellow Adirondack chair.

“Liar,” Lucy retorted, placing the iced tea glasses on Bree’s table.

“You’re right,” Temple muttered. “It’s sad to admit I’ve made an overweight runaway my role model.”

“She’s not overweight.” Bree tore her eyes away from Kristi’s porn star lips.