"I look forward to hearing your ideas."

"Does Wednesday work for you?"

"Sure." Mich.e.l.le made a note on her papers.

The formal, professional conversation made Carly feel both better and worse. She liked it for work-related items. This way, everything was out in the open and there wouldn't be misunderstandings. But on a personal level, she felt strange. Because despite everything, Mich.e.l.le was someone she had cared about deeply. Just her luck she couldn't wish those feelings away.

"The other area we need to look at is increasing the number of guests, especially midweek," Mich.e.l.le said. "We're fine for weekends, at least through October. But that eighty-five-percent-occupancy number is going to be difficult to hit week after week."

"I have some ideas about inexpensive advertising," Carly told her. "There are plenty of regional websites with travel sections. The major TV stations, for starters. I've done research on advertising costs and they're reasonable. I can get you the report later this morning."

"When did you have time to check all that out?"

"I did it a few years ago," Carly admitted. "Brenda wasn't interested. There are also websites for business conferences. We couldn't take anything big, but a smaller group might enjoy being here and they're often midweek. Executive retreats are also an option."

"All good," Mich.e.l.le said. "Get me what you have and I'll look it over. I know we can get through this if we stay focused. At least we have Ellen on our side. If it wasn't for her, I probably wouldn't still own the inn."

Carly glanced down at the table. She was less sure about Ellen's support. The banker's visit on Sat.u.r.day had shown that she was far more interested in punishing than helping.

"What?" Mich.e.l.le demanded.

"Be careful about Ellen," Carly said, trying to stay neutral while offering a warning. "I'm not sure she's as friendly as you think."

Mich.e.l.le's gaze narrowed. "Why would you say that? She's helping me, standing between me and the d.a.m.ned committee that wants to shut down this place."

"Are you sure? Did you check?"

"Why would I check?"

"Because Ellen stopped by on Sat.u.r.day. She wasn't exactly friendly."

"Her not liking you only makes me trust her more," Mich.e.l.le snapped as she rose.

"Fine. Be angry at me, but don't let that blind you. I think Ellen has an agenda you're not aware of. I don't think she wants you to succeed. I'm saying you could check it out."

Carly told herself to stop talking. What did she care if Mich.e.l.le failed? Except her future was on the line, too. Financially, she wasn't ready to leave.

"We're done here," Mich.e.l.le said, turning to leave. As she shifted her weight, her leg gave out and she started to go down.

Carly rose and instinctively reached for her. Mich.e.l.le caught herself on the edge of the table and straightened.

"Can I help?" Carly asked.

Mich.e.l.le glanced at her over her shoulder. "You could go to h.e.l.l. That would help a lot."

"h.e.l.lo, beautiful."

Carly looked up from the registration-desk computer and blinked at the huge man standing in front of her. He was cla.s.sically tall, dark and, while more muscular than handsome, fairly impressive in the "take me now and don't ask questions" department.

"Good morning," she said. "How can I help you?"

She hoped he wasn't a guest. With the exception of Leonard, single guys never stayed at the inn. Which meant if he was a guest, he was with a girl. Starting their stay by flirting with him wouldn't bode well.

"I'm looking for Mich.e.l.le." The man smiled at Carly. "I'm Mango."

"Okay."

They were the only two syllables she could manage after the smile. The flash of white teeth shouldn't have unnerved her, but it did. Maybe it was because of the way his T-shirt stretched over huge muscles. Or the appreciation lurking in his eyes. She couldn't remember the last time a man had looked at her as something other than a piece of furniture.

Then the actual meaning of his words sank in and she deflated like a sad, s.e.x-starved balloon.

"Mich.e.l.le. Right. She's in her office." Carly pointed down the hall.

Instead of moving in that direction, Mango leaned toward her. "I'm her physical therapist. She offered to show me around the island. Nothing more. We're friends."

"Oh." That was nice to know. She hoped she didn't look too eager.

He rested his elbows on the desk. His dark eyes flashed with humor. "So is she here?"

"Uh-huh." She pointed down the hall. "In her office."

"Thanks, gorgeous."

He spoke absently, without even thinking. When he was safely out of earshot, she allowed herself to chuckle. Okay-that had been a nice break in an otherwise uneventful day. The takeaway was clear-her hormones had finished hibernating and were starting to get frisky.

She hadn't seriously considered dating in the past ten years. Not only wasn't there anyone who interested her, but Gabby had always been an issue. Now that her daughter was getting older and starting to have a life of her own, maybe the whole man-woman thing was something Carly should consider. Her entire body was one big tingle, and after a decade of living like a nun, it was nice to know that parts of her hadn't died. Or atrophied. After all, where there were tingles, there was hope.

Thirteen.

The lingering effect of Mango continued long past when Carly would have thought it would fade. Gabby was having dinner with a friend, so Carly took advantage of the rare alone time to drive to Robert's garage. She hadn't seen him since he'd walked out of her place after breakfast. The fact that she thought they should both move on didn't mean she wanted him gone from her life. He would always be family. That was important to her and to Gabby.

She parked in front of the garage and walked in through the open pull-up door. Even though it was well after six, Robert was still working, bent over a car, doing his thing. Before she could figure out what to say, he straightened and saw her.

Nothing about his expression gave away what he was thinking. He studied her while she wrestled with the right opening, finally settling on a tried-and-true cla.s.sic.

"h.e.l.lo," she said.

He nodded.

The stiff movement told her he was still angry, or maybe hurt. So much for the truth setting her free.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"Fine. With you?"

"Okay. Good. Mich.e.l.le and I are still finding our footing. She's p.i.s.sed at me most of the time. When she's not, I'm p.i.s.sed at her. It makes for colorful exchanges." There had been tension with Brenda, but this was different. Oddly better, she thought. With Mich.e.l.le she could simply say, or yell, what she was thinking. Which made it more freeing, in a twisted kind of way.

"I'm busy." He turned away and walked toward the back of his garage.

She followed him. "No," she said loudly. "I won't be dismissed."

He spun back to her. "What do you expect from me?"

"Honesty. Real honesty. You're Gabby's uncle and the closest thing to a father she will ever have. I don't accept you simply disappearing. It's not what we want and I don't think it's what you want, either."

"You made it pretty clear what you didn't want."

"I'm sorry I was so blunt. I should have thought it through. But seriously, Robert, I'm not wrong. It's been a decade. Don't you think if we were going to fall madly in love it would have happened? We love each other, but not that way."

"You don't know what I feel."

"I know you've never once even tried to kiss me. While you are quite the gentleman, at some point, shouldn't pa.s.sion have taken over?"

He twisted the shop rag he had in his hands. "I wanted to give you time."

"Ten years?"

Some of the tension seemed to fade away and he sighed. "Okay, yeah. That's a long time. For a while I thought we'd, you know, go that way, but then it never happened."

"For a reason. I think we're great friends. I want that. I want you around. But go on a date. Get laid. It's time."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Interesting advice coming from you."

"The virgin s.l.u.t? Yes, I know."

They stared at each other for another couple of seconds, then he jerked his head to the back of the garage. "Come on. I'll buy you a soda."

A few minutes later they were sitting in his break room, sipping from cold cans he'd pulled out of the ancient refrigerator.

"How's it really going with Mich.e.l.le?" he asked.

"There are good days and bad days. She still looks awful. She's injured and adjusting."

"It takes time."

"Yes, I know. Give her a break." Carly didn't point out that for the past few years her life had been startlingly break-free. Instead, she brought him up-to-date on the various issues and events, leaving out Mango's hormone-inciting visit.

"Mich.e.l.le is wrong about Ellen, and because she won't listen, it's going to come bite her in the b.u.t.t. I can feel it. I just hope it doesn't take me down, too."

"You think Ellen is still mad about high school?"

"I would guarantee it. Apparently she doesn't share our same s.p.a.ce-time continuum and what happened back then is as real as if it happened yesterday."

"Then she needs to move on."

"She needs a man."

He raised his eyebrows. "Not interested. She's scary."

Carly grinned. "Are you sure? I'm sure she would be happy to fill the vault with cash and then you could roll around in all that money."

"I'll pa.s.s." He took a swallow of the soda. "Mich.e.l.le will come around. She needs you."

"I need her, too."

Not just now, she thought sadly. They'd always needed each other, but when things had been their worst, they'd been torn apart.

Carly felt the tug of the past. She'd been seventeen when her mother had walked out. She still remembered the disbelief and devastation of coming home from school only to find her mother had abandoned her to the indifferent care of an alcoholic father. There'd been a brief note in which her mother had explained why she had to go.

She'd claimed to be in love, as if that explained and excused it all. She'd promised to stay in touch, which she hadn't, and had sworn she still loved Carly. That had been a lie, too. She'd never come back, had never sent for her daughter, spent a weekend with her. Birthdays had warranted a card and sometimes a phone call. There had been little else.

From the time Carly had found out she was pregnant, she'd vowed to do better. Her child would feel love every single day. Her child would live in a stable home. Having Allen as her daughter's father made those promises challenging, but so far she'd succeeded. Gabby was happy and healthy, full of life.

Maybe that was enough, she told herself. Maybe the proof of who she'd become could be found in the smiles of her daughter.

Mich.e.l.le moved through the full dining room. Breakfast was always busy, even midweek. Plenty of locals came by before heading to work. The guests in the inn generally ate here, along with a few staying at the motel down the street. The smell of eggs and bacon and sausage mingled with the life-giving scent of coffee.

She greeted Isabella, then made her way around the tables. When she saw an empty coffee cup, she changed direction and grabbed a full pot.

"Good morning," she said, returning to a table of businessmen and pouring.

"Morning," one of them mumbled. The other three were bent over a laptop.

She smiled, not the least bit offended by being ignored. If they weren't looking, she didn't have to worry about them seeing her limp, didn't have to field questions about being hurt.

When she'd refilled all the coffees, she continued back toward the kitchen. It was still early, barely seven-thirty, and chaos reigned.

Damaris whipped a frothy bowl of eggs, adding a bit of cream, then salt, before pouring the mixture directly onto a hot griddle. Once they began to sizzle, she dropped cheese and vegetables in, then swirled and expertly flipped the omelet closed. After pulling down a clean plate, she slid the omelet into place. Blackberries followed, then the plate went next to three others.

"Order up," she announced.

A server jumped to grab it.

Damaris read the next order while she was stirring the scrambled eggs.

"Wheat toast," she yelled to her a.s.sistant, then glanced up and saw Mich.e.l.le. "Good morning, little one. How are you feeling?"