Island Summer Love Read online

  Cabot laughed. “You don’t know Martha very well if you think anything can keep her from dancing.”

  “That’s right!” Martha lurched toward the living room doorway and did a wobbly spin. “See, I’ve been practicing every day! The doctor said it was amazing that I’d recovered so fast!”

  Allison couldn’t help grinning back at her friend. She was looking forward to the July Fourth Social herself. The only cloud on the horizon was that Martha’s determination to double date meant she would have to see Brent. She hoped that Isabel had had her little talk with him.

  Isabel was filled with plans of her own, for the traditional Fourth of July Social was one of the most important events of the year on Harper’s Island, and she was the president of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, which supplied all the refreshments. She filled in Allison and Martha while they were doing the dishes, after supper.

  “First, there’s the parade. It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got on Harper’s Island. Then the auction. Joe Barnes is a great auctioneer; I really think he missed his calling digging clams for a living. Of course, in the evening there’s the chicken pie supper. Everybody comes, even the littlest ones, and they all have a wonderful time. I can promise you the best food in the state of Maine will be eaten that night—maybe in the whole of New England. Then there’s fireworks. After that’s the best part—the dance out at John Bailey’s barn. We’ve got a real live band coming from Bar Harbor this year. Everybody comes to the dance, too, and stays up until all hours.”

  “It sounds wonderful!” Martha crowed, doing a shaky waltz across the kitchen floor. “Look, I can really dance! So much for Brent’s doubting my ability to get back on my feet! Now he has to escort me! I can hardly wait. I intend to dance with every eligible man there!”

  Isabel laughed. “Well, I’m sure you will. Probably a number of the ineligible ones, too. It’s a real community event.” She turned to Allison. “You’ll have to share Cabot, I’m afraid. It’s not the kind of event where you just dance with one person all night, even if you are engaged to be married.”

  Martha gave her an enthusiastic glance. “That’s right, Allison. And with Cabot’s dancing ability, he’s going to be very popular.”

  Allison smiled. “Okay, I’ll share him. Just this once.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” Martha giggled. “He’s already promised me a tango.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Fourth of July dawned clear and warm; a gentle sea breeze lifted the long needles of the white pine tree outside Allison’s window as she woke to the sound of Martha’s knock.

  “Come on, lazybones,” Martha ordered, sailing into the room, her long arms dancing in the sunlit air. “We’ve got to get ready for tonight.”

  Allison rolled over and sat up in bed. “Get ready?”

  “Of course! We have to figure out our outfits and hairstyles. This is the event of the summer. We have to look gorgeous!”

  Allison smiled wryly. “I was thinking of wearing my denim skirt.”

  “Don’t you dare, Allison Curtis! We’re going to knock them off their feet when we go to that dance! I’m going to wear my blue paisley chamois, and you . . .” She cocked her head and squinted at Allison. “I think you should wear that pink thing, with the lace. You know, the one you wore to the engagement party.”

  “That’s much too formal, I’m sure.” Allison thought of the frothy pink dress that hung in her closet, and wondered why she’d brought it to the island in the first place. It certainly wasn’t appropriate here. It was cut very low in front, accentuating her full breasts, and it sheathed her hips tightly under the double skirt of lace that spilled from her waist.

  “Cabot loves it. He told me you look very sexy in it.”

  “Cabot said I looked sexy?”

  Martha shrugged. “Well, maybe those weren’t his exact words, but that was the general idea.”

  “I’ll bet.” He’d probably said something like, Doesn’t Allison look becoming? and Martha had, as usual, exaggerated his meaning.

  “Oh, please wear it, Allison!”

  “You just want me to wear it so it will set off your blue.”

  Martha wrinkled her nose. “That’s not the only reason.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Allison yawned. “But right now I want to get a few more minutes sleep. It’s Saturday morning, and I’ve been working all week, remember? There’s plenty of time to plan my outfit later.”

  “But there isn’t, Allison! The parade begins in just two hours. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”

  “I don’t have to dress up for that. Cabot’s not meeting me until later this afternoon. I’m on my own for the parade and auction.”

  “You can come with Brent and me, then.”

  “Brent’s taking you to the parade?”

  Martha’s eyes sparkled. “He’s taking me to everything! I had to twist his arm a little. His said he was only obligated for the dance, but I insisted it was a package deal.” She giggled. “He didn’t fight too hard.”

  Allison’s heart gave a hard thump. “I think I’ll go to the parade on my own. I don’t want to cramp your style.”

  “Don’t be silly. I demand that you come. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “You’re going to have to, because I’m not going.”

  Martha pouted. “Then I’ll get Brent to roust Cabot out of his den and we’ll all go together. What does Cabot do with his time all day, anyway? I thought the merger was signed, sealed, and delivered.”

  Allison shrugged. “It’s not something he ever finishes with. There’s always new deals on the horizon. You ought to know that. Isn’t your father the same way?”

  Martha sighed, nodding. “It’s deadly. You’re going to have to make him take regular vacations, like my mother does. Go off to places like Kenya and Sri Lanka.”

  Allison laughed. “I’ll certainly do my best.” She slid back down on the pillow. “But I don’t have to worry about that right now. And if I’m going to be up until all hours tonight, as Isabel says, then I want to get a little more sleep.”

  “Okay. But be ready by nine-thirty or I’ll make Brent turn you over his knee.”

  Allison’s stomach flip-flopped. “Spank me? That’s not Brent’s style.”

  Martha grinned, her eyes dancing. “You’d be surprised.” She bounced out of the room, leaving Allison to stare up at the ceiling, wondering why she had suddenly lost the desire for more sleep.

  At nine-thirty Allison came into the kitchen dressed in her denim skirt, a pale yellow chamois blouse, and open sandals. She had decided to risk Cabot’s disapproval and wear her hair down for the morning; since she’d cut it, he really couldn’t object. She’d put it up, the way he liked it, for the supper and dance. She found Martha in the kitchen, wearing a green cotton dress that set off her tan complexion and gray-green eyes. Her short, dark hair curled attractively around her face. She looked stunning.

  A moment later Allison’s throat tightened as she heard Brent’s truck in the yard.

  Martha went to the screen door. “We’re all set, Brent!” she called cheerily.

  Allison sank into a chair, unable to bring herself to look through the window and watch Brent’s confident stride across the lawn.

  “Where’s Cabot?” Martha asked, opening the door for him.

  “He’s not coming.” Brent slid past Martha and looked at Allison, who had to force herself to lift her head and meet his eyes with her own.

  He stopped, his legs frozen in mid-stride. Two small frown creases appeared between his eyebrows. “What happened to your hair?” There was something cold in his voice.

  Allison raised her chin. “I cut it.”

  “So I see.”

  “Doesn’t it look wonderful?” Martha tugged on Brent’s sleeve. “Cabot’s been begging her to do it for months, and finally she gave in.” She beamed up into Brent’s face. “Ain’t love grand?”

  Brent didn’t respond. He was still staring at Allis
on. She watched the muscles of his jaw tighten. She looked down at her hands.

  “Brent, why isn’t Cabot coming?” Martha leaned against his arm, trying without success to pull his gaze away from Allison.

  “I don’t know. Something about a new takeover bid. He said Allison would understand.”

  Allison shrugged and glanced at Martha. “I didn’t really expect him to come. It was your idea to get Brent to ask him, Martha.”

  “Does he always work on national holidays?” She saw the disgust on Brent’s face and looked away.

  “Let’s try again. Maybe if you talk to him, Allison.” Martha looked hopefully at her friend.

  Allison shook her head. “I’ve already tried.”

  Brent turned suddenly to Martha. “I guess that leaves you as our last hope, Martha. Take my truck.”

  Martha blinked up at him in surprise. “You’re offering me the keys to your precious truck?”

  “Just take the curves under sixty, please. As a favor to me.” He pressed the keys into her hand and steered her quickly to the door. Allison watched as he opened the door and escorted her outside. She stood up quickly and headed for the stairs. She’d wait for Martha’s return in her room. The last thing she wanted was to face Brent alone.

  “Wait.” Brent’s deep voice slashed through her.

  Allison froze. “I have some things to do in my room.” She couldn’t look at him.

  “Tell me why you cut your hair.”

  She turned slowly to face him. “Martha told you already. Cabot’s been after me for months to cut it. He doesn’t like it long.”

  Brent’s jaw tightened. “And you wanted to cut it?”

  She lifted her chin. “I did it to please Cabot.”

  “I see.” His voice was very low. He gazed at her, nodding slowly.

  Her eyes stung. “I don’t need to justify myself to you. What I do with my hair is my own business.”

  “Yes, exactly. Not mine. Not Cabot’s. What did he do, tell you it wasn’t stylish enough for his circle of friends?”

  Allison heard the derisive tone and her anger flared. “It really isn’t your business, is it? There’s nothing criminal in wearing my hair to please my fiancé. And he’s very pleased.”

  Brent’s mouth quirked upward in a sardonic grin. “I’m sure he is. Anything to tame the wildness of the beauty around him. The question is—are you pleased?”

  She straightened and looked directly into his eyes. “Yes, Brent. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I like my hair this way. It’s much easier to take care of; it’s not as hot, and, believe it or not, I don’t object to being stylish. And”—she took a short, deep breath—“since you find my looks so distasteful, I certainly don’t intend to impose them on you any longer.” She whirled and started up the stairs, taking them rapidly, her legs pumping furiously.

  His hand found her shoulder almost instantly. When he turned her, Allison found her lips only inches from his.

  “No, Allison,” he whispered. “I certainly don’t find your looks distasteful. You could shave it all off and I’d still want to do this.”

  His mouth claimed hers before she could think to move away. He kissed her hard, more insistently than ever before. His strong tongue pressed her lips open and entered the warmth of her mouth. Allison thought momentarily of resisting him, but when she brought her hands up to push him away, her muscles turned to jelly. Her trembling hands found the column of his neck as he stroked her hair and spine.

  When he pulled her closer, she lost her balance and fell against him. His arms gripped her tightly, lifting her. Lost in the sweetness of desire as his tongue probed the sensitive recesses of her mouth, Allison was only dimly aware that he was carrying her, until he laid her gently on her bed in the little guest room at the top of the stairs. She heard the door close softly and then felt him lie down beside her.

  She gasped with delight as his hands found the buttons of her blouse and his fingers explored the tender skin of her breasts. She touched his back, ran her hands down the hard muscles and over the rippling biceps of his arms.

  “Oh, Brent!” she moaned as he kissed her neck and the soft swell of her breasts.

  The slam of the screen door in the kitchen below brought his head up instantly. Allison watched the glazed look clear from his eyes. She reached for him, then froze as she heard Martha’s triumphant crow at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Hey, I got him to come! Cabot’s here!”

  Allison gasped. What had she done? She was lying here on her bed with Brent, half undressed, while her fiancé waited for her downstairs!

  Brent sat up. “Sounds like we’ve got company.” He ran a hand through his thick hair.

  Allison stared at him with wide eyes. “You said it wouldn’t happen again,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be, Allison. I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to wait.” He turned to her, his eyes tender and sad.

  She buttoned her blouse quickly, concentrating on each button so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. “Wait for what?” she said hoarsely.

  “For you to break up with that insufferable snob you call your fiancé.”

  She took a sharp breath. “I’ve told you already, Brent, I’m not breaking the engagement. And he’s not a snob! He’s the most polite, most considerate man I’ve ever met.”

  He sighed. “And the richest.” He stood up, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it, Allison? It’s not love; it’s money.”

  She went rigid with fury, but he only smiled down at her.

  “Looks like I hit the nail right square on the head this time.” He released her hand and stepped to the door. “It may be a little awkward to explain what we’re both doing up here. Why don’t you change your blouse, and I’ll tell them I was up here checking a leaky faucet? Isabel’s orders.” He gave her a quick wink and left the room.

  A moment later she heard Brent in the kitchen, his deep voice mingling with Martha’s higher one.

  She changed to a red and blue paisley blouse, and slowly descended the stairs. Cabot was standing with his back to her, watching Martha as she told Brent the details about how she had lured Cabot into coming. Allison went to Cabot and touched his elbow. He turned and gave her a distant smile before his eyes slid back to Martha.

  Her friend was cavorting around the room like an eager puppy, frolicking from Cabot to Brent and back again. When she finally spotted Allison, she grinned. “Hey, let’s get going! We want to get a good place to watch the parade!”

  Brent laughed. “This isn’t Boston, Martha. There’s plenty of space and plenty of time.” He sat down at the table. “How about a cup of coffee?” He looked directly at Allison.

  “I’ll get it.” Allison forced a false lightness into her voice as she hurried to the stove, grateful for the excuse to turn her back on Brent. “Is instant okay?”

  “You bet. I’m not a man who likes to wait too long. For coffee or anything else.” His tone turned her stomach to jelly.

  “Ohhh,” Martha groaned loudly. “I can’t believe you’re going to hold us up like this, Brent! The rest of us want to get going. Don’t we, Cabot?” She waltzed over and tucked her arm through Cabot’s.

  Cabot smiled at her fondly. “I’m in no rush, Martha.”

  “Just what I need! Two party poopers! Maybe Allison and I should just go by ourselves.” She jutted her narrow chin into the air and giggled.

  “Fine with me,” Brent said. “Cabot and I can sit here and have a man-to-man talk.”

  Allison stiffened. She knew that Brent was joking, but the thought of Cabot and Brent talking alone in the kitchen was profoundly unsettling. She tried to imagine Cabot outlining his takeover bids while Brent stifled a yawn. No, Brent wouldn’t be that polite. If he wasn’t interested in something, he’d come right out and say so. Wh
at if he started talking about her? Would he dare to mention what had just happened between them in her bedroom? Her mouth went dry.

  She glanced at Brent and was startled to find his blue eyes looking straight at her, twinkling with mischief. Quickly she turned way. “Let’s all have a cup of coffee, Martha. There’s plenty of time before the parade.”

  “All right, but if we miss anything, I’m holding each of you personally responsible.” Martha flung herself into a chair and Cabot sat beside her.

  To Allison’s relief, the teakettle started to boil, breaking the tension with its raucous shrill.

  They watched the parade from Brent’s front porch. Allison managed to position herself so that both Martha and Cabot were between her and Brent, and she found herself thoroughly enjoying the little procession of children and adults that marched up the road. They carried flags and balloons; some of the children had decorated their bicycles in red, white, and blue crepe paper. When she saw Ricky Flory flash by in a blur of patriotic color, she couldn’t resist the urge to cheer.

  There was no music; the participants seemed to carry their own rhythm inside their heads. The parade went up the road to the bend by the Cutlers’ house, then turned and came back, bikes flashing, balloons bobbing. The procession disbanded at the general store, where the spectators and marchers mingled together over ice cream cones and sodas.

  Martha insisted on joining the crowd, and before Allison knew it, she was in the middle of a group of familiar children, all wanting to know if she’d seen them, and wasn’t it the best parade ever? She assured them that she had and it was and, in fact, she honestly believed that this little motley group had been more enchanting than the massive parades she’d witnessed when her parents took her to Boston as a child.

  She looked up once, to find Brent gazing at her with a strange, vulnerable look on his face. Cabot had moved to the edge of the crowd and was busy wiping something from his slacks; his face was folded into a look of loathing. A hand tugged at her skirt, and she looked down to see one of the younger Flory children grinning up at her.

  “Did you see me, Miss Curtis?” the tiny girl lisped.