Her brain had dried up again. Instead of thinking about Daphne and Benny, she found herself thinking about Kevin and the campground. This was his heritage, and he should never sell it. He said he'd been bored here as a child, but he didn't have to be bored now. Maybe he just needed a playmate. Her brain skittered away from thinking about exactly what playing with Kevin would involve.
She decided to walk to the Common. Maybe she'd sketch some of the cottages just for fun. On the way there, Roo trotted over to greet Charlotte Long and impress her with his dead dog imitation. Although fewer than half the cottages were occupied, most of the residents seemed to be out for an evening stroll, and long, cool shadows fell like whispers across the grass. Life passed more slowly here in Nightingale Woods…
The gazebo caught Molly's attention.
I'll have a tea party! I'll invite my friends, and we'll wear fabulous hats and eat chocolate frosting and say, "Ma chère, have you ever seen such a bee-you-tee-ful day?"
She settled cross-legged on the beach towel she'd brought with her and began to sketch. Several couples strolled by and stopped to observe, but they were members of the last generation with manners, and they didn't interrupt her. As she drew, she found herself thinking about all her years at summer camp. The frailest thread of an idea began to form in her mind, not about a tea party but about-
She closed her notebook. What was the use of thinking so far ahead? Birdcage had contractual rights to two more Daphne books, neither of which they'd accept until she'd made the revisions they'd demanded of Daphne Takes a Tumble.
The lights were on when she returned to the cottage. She hadn't left them that way, but she wasn't too worried.
Roo immediately started barking and made a dash for the bathroom door. It wasn't latched, and the dog bumped it open a few inches with his head.
"Calm down, poochy." Molly pushed it open the rest of the way and saw Kevin, all bare-naked beautiful, stretched out in the old-fashioned tub, legs crossed and propped on the rim, a book in his hands, and a small cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth.
"What are you doing in my bathtub?" Although the water came all the way to the top, there weren't any soap bubbles to hide him, so she didn't go closer.
He pulled the cigar from the corner of his mouth. No smoke curled from it, and she realized it wasn't a cigar but a stick of candy-chocolate or root beer.
He had the gall to sound irritated. "Now, what do you think I'm doing? And would you mind knocking before you barge in?"
"Roo barged in, not me." The dog ambled out, his job done, and headed for his water bowl. "Why aren't you using your own tub?"
"I don't like sharing a bathroom."
She didn't point out what had to be obvious-that he seemed to be sharing this one with her. She noticed that his chest looked just as good wet as it did dry. Even better. Something about the way he was watching her made her feel edgy. "Where did you get that candy?"
"In town. And I only bought one."
"Nice going."
"All you had to do was ask."
"Like I knew you were going to buy candy? And I'll just bet there's a box of the beautiful fraulein's fudge tucked away somewhere."
"Close the door on your way out. Unless you want to get naked and climb in here with me?"
"Thanks so much, but it looks a little small."
"Small? I don't think so, sweetheart."
"Oh, grow up!"
His chuckle followed her as she spun around and slammed the door. Slytherin! She headed for the small bedroom. Sure enough, his suitcase was there. She sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple. Her old headache was coming back.
Daphne put down her electric guitar and opened her door. Benny stood on the other side. "Can I use your bathtub, Daphne?" "Why do you want to?" He looked scared. "I just do."
She poured herself a glass of sauvignon blanc from the bottle she found chilling in the refrigerator, then carried it out to the porch. Her black cropped top wasn't warm enough for the evening chill, but she didn't bother going inside to get a sweater.
She was rocking in the glider when he appeared. He wore a pair of gray sweat socks with a silky-looking robe that had dark maroon and black vertical stripes. It was the kind of robe a woman would buy for a man she loved sleeping with. Molly hated it.
"Let's host a tea in the gazebo before we leave," she said. "We'll make an event of it and invite everyone in the cottages."
"Why would we want to do that?"
"For fun."
"Sounds like a real thrill ride." He sat on the chair next to her and stretched his legs. The hair on his calves lay damp against his skin. He smelled like Safeguard and something expensive-a Brinks truckload of broken female hearts.
"I'd rather you didn't stay here, Kevin."
"I'd rather I did." He took a sip of wine from the glass he'd brought out with him.
"Can I sleep at your house, Daphne?" "I guess. But why do you want to?" "Because mine has a ghost."
"You can't hide from Lilly forever," she said.
"I'm not hiding. Just picking my own time."
"I don't know much about getting annulments, but it seems as though this might compromise ours."
"It was compromised from the beginning," he said. "The way my attorney explained it, the grounds for a legal annulment are misrepresentation or duress. I figured you could claim duress. I sure wasn't going to argue."
"But the fact that we're together now makes that doubtful."
"Big deal. We'll get a divorce instead. It might take a little longer, but it'll accomplish the same thing."
She rose from the glider. "I still don't want you to stay here."
"It's my cottage."
"I have renter's rights."
His voice slid over her, soft and sexy. "I think being around me just makes you nervous."
"Yeah, right." She managed a yawn.
Amused, he nodded toward her wineglass. "You're drinking. Aren't you afraid you'll attack me again in my sleep?"
"Oops. Relapse. And I didn't even realize it."
"Or maybe you're afraid I'll attack you."
Something licked at her deep inside, but she played Ms. Cool, wandering over to the table to wipe up a few bread crumbs with the napkin she'd left there. "Why should I be? You're not attracted to me."
He waited just long enough before he replied to make her nervous. "How do you know who I'm attracted to?"
Her heart did a provoking little skipper-dee. "Oh, my gosh! And here I thought my command of the English language would drive us apart."
"You're such a wise-ass."
"Sorry, but I like my men with more depth of character."
"Are you trying to say you think I'm shallow?"
"As a sidewalk puddle. But you're rich and gorgeous, so it's okay."
"I am not shallow!"
"Fill in the blank: The most important thing in Kevin Tucker's life is-"
"Football is my career. That hardly makes me shallow."
"The second, third, and fourth most important things in Kevin Tucker's life are football, football, and oh my god, football."
"I'm the best at what I do, and I'm not apologizing."
"The fifth most important thing in Kevin Tucker's life is-Oh, wait now, that would be women, wouldn't it?"
"Quiet ones, so that leaves you out!"
She was halfway to a great comeback when it hit her. "I get it. All the foreign women…" He looked wary. "You don't want someone you can truly communicate with. That might get in the way of your primary obsession."
"You have no idea what you're talking about. I keep telling you: I date lots of American women."
"And I'll bet they're interchangeable. Beautiful, not too bright, and-as soon as they turn demanding-out the door."
"The good old days."
"I insulted you, in case you didn't realize it."
"I insulted you back, in case you didn't realize it."
She smiled. "I'm sure you don't want to stay under the same roof with someone who's so demanding."