Face the Fire

She didn't sleep, nor had she expected to. Instead, she put the bubbling energy to good use. She worked on kitchen magic, put together some pocket charms. She polished furniture, scrubbed floors, then gave herself a manicure.



At dawn, she was in the gardens, selecting and clipping the flowers she wanted for store decoration. When she arrived at Cafe Book at eight, her energy level showed no signs of waning. Nell, dependable as sunrise, arrived at nine, loaded with supplies.



"You look incredible," Nell said as Mia helped her transport boxes and containers.



"I feel incredible. It's going to be a good day."



"Mia." Nell set the cake box on the refreshment table. "I trust you. But it's just not like you to be so casual about what happened last night. That level of magic, that scope - "



"Was like having a dragon by the tail," Mia finished. "I take what happened very seriously. I have to ride this wave, little sister. Physically, I really don't have a choice. It doesn't mean I'm not aware, or that I'm glib, or that I don't know that what's coming is more potent yet."



A dragon by the tail? Nell thought. More like a herd of them. "I saw what you were able to call last night. I felt the edge of it whip through me. Just the edge, and it was staggering. Now you're setting up



for a book signing as if it's the most important thing you have to do."



"Today it is." She took one of Nell's apple fritters from a box. "Can't seem to get enough to eat. It's a matter of routing the energy, which I imagine you did, very skillfully, with Zack last night." She smiled a little as she bit into the pastry. "I've had a lot of practice finding ways other than sex to route mine. You could serve canapes off my kitchen floor this morning."



"I thought you and Sam would leave together."



"So did I." Thoughtfully, Mia licked sugar from her finger. "Apparently he had other things to do."



"After you left, Mac took readings from Sam. Sam didn't like it. Zack had to insult him into it. You know, the way men do."



"Questioning the size and stamina of his penis."



"Basically. And calling him Mary."



"Ah, yes." Mia chuckled and nibbled. "Always effective."



"Sam's readings were nearly as high as yours."



Still ravenous, Mia contemplated another fritter. "Really?"



"Mac's theory, or one of them, is that Sam was at ground zero and absorbed some of the energy flying around. Now, of course, he wants to wait a few days and then get readings from Sam for comparison. His standard levels and so on."



Mia gave in, took the second pastry, and told herself she'd do an extra hour of yoga later. "Sam wouldn't care for that."



"No, he didn't like it. But my impression is he's going to cooperate. Mac's very persuasive, and he used you."



"Me?"



"Any data are essential, every scrap of information goes into the whole and helps - don't get mad at this - protect you."



Mia brushed sugar from her fingertips, admired the slick coral polish on her nails. "Did I give anyone the impression last night that I needed protection?"



"They're men," Nell said simply, and restored Mia's good humor.



"Can't live with them, can't turn them into jackasses."



With preparations at Cafe Book well under control, Mia went down to meet the ten o'clock ferry. She noted that Pete Stubens's dog had gotten off the leash again and was racing around the docks with the remains of some unfortunate, and very dead, fish hanging out of his mouth. She spotted Carl Macey's boat at the dock and imagined that he and his crew would be unloading a fresher, more appetizing catch.



She toyed with wandering over and asking him to set aside some of it for her. There was little doubt that by the end of the day her appetite would be just as keen as it was now.



"Hi, Miz Devlin." Dennis Ripley skidded his bike to a halt inches in front of the open toes of Mia's Pradas.



"Hi, Mister Ripley."



The boy grinned, as he always did. Growing like a weed, Mia thought, and well into the gangly-arms-and-awkward-elbows stage. In a couple of years, she mused, he'd be zipping along in some secondhand car instead of on his bike.



And the idea made her sigh.



"My mom's coming to your store today to see that writer lady."



"I'm glad to hear it."



"My aunt Pat works at the hotel, and she says they've got a fancy room for her, with a whirlpool tub and a TV set in the bathroom."



"Is that so?"



"She says writers make lots of money and live high on the hog."



"I imagine some do."



"Like Stephen King. His books are cool. Maybe I'll write a book and you can sell it in your store."



"Then we'll both get rich." She pulled down the bill of his ball cap and made him laugh.



"I'd rather play for the Red Sox, though. Gotta go."



He shot off, whistling for Pete's dog, who raced after him. Mia turned to watch them, and there stood Sam.



Neither spoke for a moment, but the air seemed to snap.



"Hi, Miz Devlin."



"Hi, Mister Logan."



"Excuse me a minute." He slid his arms around her, gripped the back of her dress in a fist, and crushed his mouth down on hers.



And the air seemed to sizzle.



"I didn't get around to doing that last night."



"Today works." Her lips vibrated from the heat of him.



She shifted away, a test of will with the energy bubbling inside her, and watched the ferry chug its way toward the dock. "Ferry's on time."



"We need to talk about last night."



"Yes, we need to talk about a number of things. But not today."



"Tomorrow, then. We should both be a little less . . . distracted."



"Is that a euphemism?" Mia asked, amusing herself, and stepped forward as the ferry docked. A black sedan eased down the gangplank, steered to the side. Before the driver could walk around to open the door, a pretty blonde popped out of the backseat.



She gave a laughing shout, then rushed forward and all but jumped into Sam's arms. The kiss was audible, an extended mmmmm! with a quick popping sound at the end.



"God! It's good to see you! How did you manage to get better-looking? I can't believe I'm here on your island. Just thinking about it's gotten me through a week of book tour wars. Let's have another kiss."



Oh, yes, let's, Mia thought dryly as she watched the exchange. Caroline Trump was as attractive as her book jacket photo. A swing of sunny blond hair curved around a pretty elfin face, warmed by honey-brown eyes and dominated by a shapely pink mouth. A mouth that, Mia noted, was currently fused to Sam's.



She had the young, perky build of a high school cheerleader, though her bio put her at thirty-six. The bio had neglected to mention that she and Sam Logan had been lovers.



"Tell me everything you've been up to," Caroline demanded. "I can't wait to see your hotel. There has to be time for you to show me around this place. It's great! The book signing will probably be a dud - God knows why they schedule in these little holes-in-the-wall - so I can cut out early. We'll go to the beach."



"You still talk too much." Sam eased her back, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Welcome to Three Sisters. Caroline, this is Mia Devlin, the owner of Cafe Book."



"Oops." Caroline turned her cheerful smile on Mia. "I do talk too much. Just run on and on. I didn't mean it about the signing." She took Mia's hand, pumped. "I'm just all wired up. Haven't seen Sexy here for over six months, and I've had about a gallon of coffee already this morning. I really appreciate you having me."



"It's our pleasure," Mia said in a voice so smooth it made Sam wince. She drew her hand free of Caroline's grip. "I hope the trip from the mainland was pleasant."



"It was great. I - "



"Then I'll just add my welcome to Sam's, and let you go so you can settle in. If there's anything you need, you can reach me at Cafe Book. Sam," she said with a regal nod and walked away.



"Oh, ouch." Caroline rapped a fist against her forehead. "I'm such a moron. Brilliant author-bookseller relations."



"Don't worry about it," Sam told her. He would. "Let's get you settled at the hotel. I think you're going to like your suite."



An hour later, Sam braved the sting of hellfire and walked into Cafe Book.



"Upstairs," Lulu called out as she busily rang up sales. "And she's on a tear."



He found her giving instructions to the part-time clerk at the auxiliary checkout counter. She didn't look like a woman on a tear, he thought, but like a coolly efficient business owner taking care of details. But then, Lulu knew her all too well.



She moved away to replenish stock that customers had already taken from her area display. "Is our VIP



settling in?"



"Yes, she's changing. I'm going back shortly to take her to lunch."



"I hope our little signing doesn't interfere too much with the social aspects of your reunion."



"Can we take this somewhere a little more private?"



"I'm afraid not." She turned, beaming a professional smile as a woman took another book off the display. "Be sure to fill out the form for our prize drawings. We'll be pulling names throughout the event,"



she told the woman. "As you can see," she said to Sam, "I'm too busy dealing with my pesky event in my little hole-in-the-wall to chat with you."



"She didn't mean to insult you, Mia."



"Not to my face, in any case. There's no need for you to explain your friend to me. On any level."



"I was going to suggest you join us for lunch." He didn't flinch at the long, slow stare she aimed at him.



"Give her a chance to smooth over the awkward first impression."



"Not only would it take more than lunch to manage that, but I don't have the time or the inclination. And I certainly don't intend to be part of any little menage a trois, however civilized."



Okay, he thought. First things first. "Caroline and I haven't been involved in that way for a long time. And I don't appreciate having to explain something like that in the middle of the damn store."



She nudged him aside so that she could speak to a group of tourists who were currently goggling. "Good morning. I hope you'll be staying for our event this afternoon." She picked up a book to show them.



"Miss Trump will be here to discuss and sign her latest."



By the time she finished her pitch and had the customers browsing the paperback display, he was gone.



"Dud, my butt," Mia murmured.



"I'm going to be so charming she's going to forget I ever had my foot in my mouth."



"Stop obsessing, Caroline."



"I can't." She poked at her Cobb salad. "And it'll hurt my feelings if you've forgotten that about me. Obsession is like breathing for me. I'm going to win her over before I'm finished. You'll see."



"Eat your lunch."



"I'm nervous. She made me nervous. God, Sam! I couldn't stop babbling."



"You always babble." He nudged the coffee aside, nudged up her salad bowl.



"No, I chatter. Babbling's different. She's the one, isn't she?"



"The one what?"



"The one you were always hung up on." With her head angled to the side, Caroline studied him. "I always knew there was the one , even when we were together."



"Yes, she's the one. How's Mike doing?"



"Ah." She wiggled her fingers so she could see the glint of her wedding ring. It was still new. And though it was the second she'd worn, she was determined that this one would stick. "He's great. Misses me when I'm on tour - which is good for my ego. I'm going to have to bring him back here for a vacation. It's wonderful. And," she added, "you changed the subject to distract me. You don't want to talk about Mia Devlin."



"You look wonderful, Caroline. Happy, successful. I really enjoyed your new book."



"Okay, we won't talk about her. You're really not coming back to New York?"



"No, I'm not coming back."



"Well." She glanced around the dining room. "You've got a hell of a place here."



She studied the portrait of the three women, turned a questioning glance at Sam. But when he simply continued to eat, she tossed her napkin on the table. "I've got to get over there and make her love me or I'm not going to be able to settle down."



"I don't believe I've ever seen you settled down." But he rose, signaled to the waiter. "You've got time for a little walk around the village."



"No, let's just do it. I'll go over to sign stock now and look around later."



He led her through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk.



"Terrific building," she said, scanning Cafe Book. She squared her shoulders, sucked in a breath.



"Okay, let's do it."



"She's not going to claw you, Caroline." He waited for a break in the traffic, guided her across the street. "She wants this event to be successful as much as you do."



"Brother, you don't know females." Caroline stepped inside, blinked. "Wow! What a place! Dream bookstore. And I'm everywhere. Jesus, Sam, it's packed. I can't believe I called this place rinky-dink."



"You didn't. Your term was 'hole-in-the-wall.' "



"Right. Right. Did I mention I was a moron?"



"Yes, I think you did. Lulu, this is Caroline Trump."



"Glad to have you." Lulu bagged up a sale, stuck out her hand. "I've been ringing up your books like they were going out of style. I read the new one last week. It had a good punch."



"Thanks. I love the store." She turned in a circle. "I want to live here. Oh! Look at those candles. Sam, I need ten minutes."



When she dashed off, he leaned back, watching fondly as she whipped through the aisles. It took fifteen minutes, but he managed to head her upstairs.



"Well, you made Lulu like you," he commented.



"That was just a side benefit. Her stock is so smart - not just the selection of books, which is impressive, but the sidelines too. Class all the way. And look at this."



She stopped at the top of the stairs, dazzled.



The crowd was already thick. The cafe tables were packed, as were the rows of chairs. Over the hum of conversation, she heard Mia's smooth voice announce her name and the time of the event.



"It's a wonder she didn't kick me out," Caroline murmured. "There must be a hundred people up here."



"Since you're determined to feel lousy about it, I'll tell you she worked her butt off. Look, just pass on what you think to your publicist. Getting other authors to Cafe Book will go a long way toward prying your foot out of your mouth."



"Consider it done. Okay, here she comes." Caroline boosted up her smile and walked in Mia's direction.



"You have the most incredible store. And I want to know if there's anything I can do to make up for being a jerk."



"Don't give it another thought. Can I get you something to drink, a bite to eat? We're very proud of our cafe."



"Got any hemlock?"



Mia put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, it could be arranged."



"Why don't I settle for a diet Coke, and you can put me to work."



"I have a number of pre-sells, if you'd like to take care of them before the event. It will give you more beach time. I'll show you into the stockroom, set you up. Pam," Mia called to the woman waiting tables.



"Would you bring Ms. Trump a diet Coke? We'll be in the stockroom. Sam, if you're staying, you might want to find a seat. Just this way, Ms. Trump."



"Caroline, please. I've done enough of these to know how much time and effort go into hosting a signing. I want to thank you."



"We're thrilled to have you."



Caroline followed Mia into the stockroom. She'd also seen enough behind-the-scenes action in bookstores to recognize ruthless organization.



"I've flapped the copies at title page," Mia began. "If that's not your preference, I'll change them."



Caroline moistened her lips. "These are all pre-sold?"



"Yes. Fifty-three at last count. Those that require personalizing - I was told you'd personalize?"



"Sure. No problem."



"They're labeled with Post-its. Your publicist indicated this is the brand of pen - "



"Just stop a second." Caroline dumped her briefcase, sat down at a stool at the counter. "I've never sold over a hundred new titles at a signing."



"You're about to break your record."



"I see that. Just as I see you have the pen I like, and that there were pink roses, my favorite, on the signing table."



"Wait till you see the cake."



"Cake?" Caroline seemed flabbergasted. "You have cake? You sent me bubble bath and candles, and were at the ferry to meet me."



"As I said, we're thrilled to have you."



"Not finished yet. Your store, which is amazing, by the way, is full of people, and an unbelievable number of them are holding my books. And you hate me because I said something careless, rude, and stupid."



"No. I was annoyed with you because you said something careless, rude, and stupid. But I don't hate you for it." Mia moved to the door to take the soft drink from Pam.



"And because I was once involved, romantically, with Sam."



"Yes." Her tone pleasant, Mia offered the drink. "Naturally I hate you for that."



"And that's fair." Caroline sipped her soft drink. "But since Sam and I haven't been anything but friends for more than four years, and I'm happily married. . . ." She wiggled the fingers of her left hand. "And, since he's hung up on you, who happen to be beautiful, smart, younger than I am, and who has those really fabulous shoes, I get to hate you more."



Mia considered her for a moment. "That seems entirely reasonable." She handed Caroline a pen. "I'll open these for you."



Four hours later, Mia was in her office tallying figures. When the publisher called on Monday for a follow-up on the event, she was going to knock their socks off.



Nell came in, dropped into a chair, and patted the belly she was sure had started to round. "That was great. That was outstanding. That was exhausting."



"I noticed that even with free refreshments, the cafe did a brisk business."



"Tell me about it." Nell yawned hugely. "Did you want to do totals?"



"We'll wait until closing for those. However, I do have the totals for the Trump books that sold during her appearance."



"And they are?"



"New title, including pre-solds? Two hundred and twelve. Paper backlist, also including pre-solds?



Three hundred and three."



"No wonder she walked out of here looking shell-shocked. Congratulations, Mia. She was terrific, wasn't she? Funny and warm during the book discussion. I really liked her."



"Yes." Mia tapped a pen on the edge of her desk. "So did I. She used to be involved with Sam."



"Oh." Nell straightened in the chair. "Oh."



"After meeting her, it's easy to see why he was attracted. She's very clever, urban, energetic. I'm not jealous."



"I didn't say a word."



"I'm not jealous," Mia repeated. "I just wish I hadn't liked her quite so much."



"Why don't you come home with me? We'll sit around, talk about men, and eat hot fudge sundaes."



"I've already gone way over my sugar intake for the day, which is probably why I'm still edgy. You go on. I've got to finish here. Then I'm going home to sleep for twelve hours."



"If you change your mind, I have homemade fudge sauce." Nell pushed herself to her feet. "You did an amazing job, Mia."



"We did. We did a stupendous job."



She turned back to her keyboard and worked until six. Sticking to practical tasks gave her mind the chance to circle and circle and consider. And it gave her the opportunity to admit that the buzz still vibrating through her wasn't going to quiet on its own.



Given the alternatives to select from, she saw no reason not to choose the one that appealed most. Sam stripped down to cutoffs and considered the cartons of leftover takeout Chinese in his refrigerator. He was, as he had been all day, famished. He thought he might order in a pizza, or a side of beef to top off the egg rolls and pork fried rice.



He was relieved that Caroline had turned down his invitation to dinner. As fond as he was of her, his brain just couldn't handle an evening of struggling to concentrate on conversation. Not after the day he'd put in. Or the night before it.



He'd swum for an hour, hard, after he helped Zack haul all the equipment back to the house on the bluff. Then he'd swung by the hotel on the way home and let himself into the health club. He'd worked out another hour, doing what he could to burn off the edge. He'd done fifty laps in the hotel pool, taken a frigid shower.



And hadn't slept all night.



After the signing, he'd taken Caroline back to the hotel, where she'd claimed she was going to take a long bubble bath. He'd used the health club again, worked up a heavy sweat. Showered. Spent an hour swimming.



And his system was still careening.



He disliked sleep inducements, even of his own making, but he thought, after he ate, that that was the only solution left.



The only practical solution, he corrected. The more satisfying one would be to find Mia, drag her off somewhere, rip off her clothes, and pump out the energy in wild, crazy sex. Which would take him right back to square one of his plan to cement a bond with her outside of wild, crazy sex.



He wasn't sure his overworked system could take either.



He'd settle for pizza.



He closed the refrigerator and turned toward the phone. And when he saw her at the back door, his entire body clenched like a fist.



Served him right, he thought grimly, for trying to tame his raging hormones by tuning her out for a few hours.



But his expression was as easy and pleasant as hers as he crossed to the door.



"Didn't expect to see you. I thought you'd be somewhere with your feet up and a drink in your hand."



"I hope you don't mind me dropping by."



"Not at all." He opened the screen door and willed himself to behave.



"I brought you a present." She held out a box, prettily wrapped in dark blue foil and topped with an elaborate white bow. "From the owner of Cafe Book to the owner of the Magick Inn." She came in, making sure her body brushed his lightly as she passed.



And she felt the quick tremor.



"A gift."



"To thank you for your part in making today happen. It was an enormous success for all involved."



"Caroline was nearly staggering by the time she got to her room. It takes a lot to wear her out."



"I'm sure you'd know," Mia countered.



"She's married. We're friends. That's it."



"Touchy." She clucked her tongue. "Why don't you offer me a drink, and have one yourself?"



"Fine." He got out a bottle of wine, yanked out the stopper. "I had a damn life the last decade, Mia. I assume you did, too."



"Naturally. Would you like me to parade some of my lovers for you?" Helpfully, she took glasses out of the cupboard. The searing look he shot her pleased her enormously.



He'd be easier, and more fun to seduce, if his temper was up.



"I don't want to hear about them. And I didn't parade Caroline."



"No, but you didn't tell me beforehand, either. It made it awkward and irritating. But I've decided to forgive you."



"Well, golly. Thanks."



"Now you're annoyed. Why don't I pour that, and you can open your present? We'll see if it puts you in a better mood."



"Rapping your head against the wall might put me in a better mood."



"But you're much too civilized for that."



"Don't go to the bank on it." But he pulled off the top of the box. And pulled out a wind chime made of foolish brass frogs.



"I found it whimsical, which suits the cottage. And apt, as I had a lovely fantasy going about how I turned you into one of these for a few days." She tapped a frog, sent it dancing and singing against its brothers. Then picked up her wine.



"It's very . . . unique. Whenever I see it, I'll think of you."



"There's a hook just outside the kitchen. Why don't you hang it, see how it looks there?"



Obliging her, he stepped outside, looped it over the empty hook.



"You smell of the sea," she told him, trailing a fingertip down the center of his bare back.



"I've been swimming."



"Did it help?"



"No."



"I could." She leaned against him, nibbled at his shoulder. "Why don't we help each other?"



"Because then it's all about sex."



"What's wrong with sex?"



She was clouding his senses. Woman's magic. He turned, gripped her arms. "We used to have more. I want more again."



"We're both old enough to know we don't get everything we want. So we take what there is." She spread her hands over his chest, felt surprise when he stepped back. "You want me, I want you. Why complicate it?"



"It's always been complicated, Mia."



"So we simplify. I need a release from what happened last night. So do you."



"We need to talk about what happened last night."



"You're a real fan of talking lately." She tossed back her hair. "Nell has this notion that you're courting me."



A muscle jumped in his cheek. "That's not a word I'd use. I'd say 'dating.' I've been dating you."



"In that case - " She crossed her arms, slid the straps of her dress from her shoulders. And let it slither to the floor. "We've dated long enough."