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  Phillip Stone was a complete enigma. On the one hand he was both rude and arrogant, and on the other he’d been gentle, caring, and kind. As far as Libby was concerned, he was the perfect candidate for intense, deep emotional therapy. He was a doctor, all right. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde … two completely different people. The first was infinitely easy to dislike and distrust and ignore. The second made her want to bury herself in the comfort of his arms and let him hold her for the next twenty years. Just thinking about the way she’d melted down in front of him caused her acute embarrassment. She’d never be able to look him in the face again.

  This couldn’t be happening; it just couldn’t.

  Only it was.

  Sucking in a deep breath to center herself, Libby sat upright and squared her shoulders. She reached for her knitting. She’d discovered that holding the needles and yarn calmed her. Although her hands trembled and she was forced to catch a sob or two, she managed to complete an entire row without an error. The baby blanket pattern was the most difficult project she’d tackled. She wasn’t even sure why she’d chosen to knit it. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time. No shaping, no need to sew it together once she’d finished. Lydia had one knitted up for display, and Libby had been drawn to it. The progression from the preemie hats to a blanket had seemed natural enough—like the hats, the blanket would most likely be given to a charity.

  After knitting for an hour, Libby’s nerves had relaxed, but only a little. Every time her mind took her to an uncomfortable place she forced her thoughts in a different direction. She refused to entertain a single flashback of her failed marriage or what had happened with Phillip that afternoon. To do so would only upset her more, and she was distressed enough. What a mess she’d made of her life …

  Her doorbell chimed, interrupting her musings. It was so rare to get company that all Libby did was stare at the front door. By the time she stood, the doorbell had rung a second time. Apparently whoever was on the other side was impatient.

  “Hold on,” she said. Checking the peephole, she gasped and rolled away from the door, flattening her back and her hands against the wall.

  Phillip Stone.

  “Libby,” he called. “I know you’re in there. Open up.”

  Biting into her lower lip so hard she almost broke the skin, she twisted the deadbolt and opened the door.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded with great bravado. Her heart felt as if it was about to explode. At this rate she would never need to exercise again. All she needed to raise her pulse was Phillip Stone.

  “Nice to see you, too. Are you going to invite me inside?”

  Keeping her hand on the doorknob, she reluctantly moved out of the way.

  Phillip walked three feet into her condo, paused, and looked around. “Nice view.”

  Libby was fairly certain he hadn’t stopped by to gaze at the Seattle skyline.

  “You can close the door now, if you’d like.”

  He was bossy, too. Libby shut the door and then leaned against it, needing its support. “Why are you here?” she asked a second time.

  “To be perfectly frank, I haven’t figured that out myself.” He walked over to the couch and sat in the very spot she’d so recently vacated.

  “As you can see, I’m fine … I apologize for that emotional display, but I’m in control now.”

  “Good.” He hesitated and then commented, “When I get upset I usually have a shot of good whiskey.”

  “Not my thing,” Libby told him, cringing at the thought. She had a bottle of wine in the refrigerator, but frankly she wasn’t in the mood.

  Not knowing what to say, Libby claimed the chair across from him and pressed her two hands between her knees. The silence felt awkward and strained. She was content to wait him out. Eventually he’d get bored and leave. At least that was what she hoped.

  Finally Libby couldn’t stand it any longer. “Did you stop by to embarrass me even more?”

  He arched his brows as though her question surprised him. “No. I came to make sure you made it home all right.”

  “As you can see I … did.”

  That didn’t appear to satisfy him. “You want to tell me what happened back there?”

  “No.” Libby had no intention of explaining what had led to that dreadful scene. She’d embarrassed herself enough for one day and wasn’t looking to repeat the performance. Besides, she’d blurted out more than she’d intended earlier. “I believe I already told you everything …” Actually she’d told him more than she was comfortable admitting.

  Leaning forward, he set his elbows on his knees and rubbed his palms together.

  “I’m not normally like this,” Libby blurted out. Naturally, she’d been upset before. Losing her position with the law firm had been traumatic, too. But it hadn’t caused her to throw herself into a man’s arms and sob her heart out. “Let me put it this way. I am usually able to control my emotions; today was an exception.”

  “Good to know.”

  She’d been on the verge of calming down when Phillip Stone had arrived. Her pulse had returned to an even rhythm, and she’d managed to herd her thoughts away from the keen embarrassment. Now all her emotions threatened to burst free again. “I was doing just fine until you came along.” Her voice wobbled slightly before she regained control.

  “I see. Then it’s all my fault.”

  “Yes, exactly.” She smiled in spite of herself. He really was the most surprising man.

  He smiled back. “I was worried about you,” he said, speaking low.

  “I … I’m okay now.”

  He leaned forward and reached for her hand. His touch felt cool against her heated skin.

  “How did you know where I live?” she asked without looking up. Her phone number was unlisted.

  “I asked Sharon. She had your volunteer form on file.”

  He’d been a bit bold about tracking her down. And Sharon already seemed to think there was something romantic happening between them. Her nurse friend had probably been eager to share the information.

  “Do you regret your divorce?” he asked.

  Libby debated how best to answer that. “What I regret was that I didn’t try harder to save the marriage. We were both so eager to give up on each other. Joe wanted a family and I felt we should wait. Then seeing his baby today …” She paused as her throat started to tighten, and she found she couldn’t complete the sentence.

  “We all have regrets, Libby. I have my share, too. I let someone I loved go; a woman I’d hoped to spend the rest of my life with. I just stood back and let her walk away.”

  Libby looked up, amazed that he was willing to share something so personal with her.

  “What happened today was clearly painful,” he continued, “but you seem like you’re willing to own your part in what caused the divorce. Don’t make the mistake of beating yourself up, especially now. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”

  “You didn’t have regrets after your breakup?”

  He laughed softly. “Oh, I had plenty. It took a while for me to realize that I had lost perspective. I assumed the hospital would fail to function if I wasn’t there to overlook every detail.”

  “I’ve heard Sharon say that several of the physicians on staff have pretty big egos.”

  “It happens,” he agreed, and smiled.

  Libby returned it with a wobbly smile of her own.

  He released her hand and straightened his posture. “Have you ever been sailing?” he asked out of the blue.

  Libby remembered the picture on Hershel’s credenza—the one of him on the sailboat—and the feeling she’d had each time she caught a glimpse of it—that sensation of being free and enjoying life. “No, but I would like to someday.”

  He stood. “No time like the present.”

  “Now?” She nervously clenched her hands. She had no experience with boats, let alone boating. After the trauma of the afternoon, staying indoors and licking her wounds appealed to h
er more.

  “Why not?” Phillip asked.

  Nibbling on her lower lip, Libby held his gaze, uncertain but tempted.

  Reading her indecision, he added, “When I need to think things through, I head for the marina. Being on the water helps clear my head and relaxes me.”

  That was incentive enough, or it should have been. “I’m not sure I should. I’ve never sailed before and …”

  “You’ll feel better with the sun on your face and the wind at your back, while you’re gliding through the water.”

  He made it sound so magical. Libby felt a smile coming. Really, what did she have to lose at this point? Nothing about the way she’d been living her life seemed to be working. Maybe it was time to stop listening to her first impulses. The decision made, she looked up and met his gaze. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  An hour later they were on Lake Washington aboard his twenty-four-foot sloop. When they’d first arrived at the marina, Phillip had gotten busy bringing out the sails, tying them up to the mast, and getting everything ready to take them onto the lake. He moved gracefully, comfortably, about the boat.

  Once they’d motored out of the marina, he set the course and raised the sails. Within moments the main sail and the jib filled with wind as the Challenger 7.4 sliced effortlessly through the dark green water.

  Phillip had been right. The sun felt good on Libby’s face, and as the wind whipped about her it seemed to take with it the pain and regrets of that afternoon. She understood now what Phillip had meant when he said he went sailing when he needed to think something through. Sailing had a calming effect on her, too.

  Phillip seemed completely at ease at the helm. He was confident and sure of himself. The wind ruffled his dark hair, blowing it back from his face. He looked boyish and happy; Libby found it difficult not to stare at him. When he caught her watching him, he grinned. It hardly seemed possible that just that morning she’d thought of him as brusque and unpleasant. The transformation was amazing.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  She didn’t know what to say. “It’s everything I thought it must be. I can’t wait to tell Hershel.”

  A frown briefly marked his brow. “Who’s Hershel?”

  She didn’t need to stop and think. “A … friend,” Libby said, although she had only recently come to think of him as one. “Hershel has a picture of his sailboat on his credenza and I’d always wondered why he loved it so. Now I know.”

  The lake had plenty of water traffic, sailboats galore, and motor-boats, too, their engines roaring as they sped past.

  A section of Lake Washington had been cordoned off for swimming, and the cheers and shouts of youngsters taking advantage of the sunshine rang through the late afternoon. Even with all the busyness of the lake, Libby felt a strange sense of intimacy with Phillip. In the close confines of the boat, her feelings were stronger than ever. While there was sound all around them, the sailboat was surprisingly quiet, making conversation easy. She wondered if Phillip felt the connection, too, and assumed he must, although neither of them spoke of it.

  Filling the silence, he talked about the sailing classes he’d taken and his search for just the right boat before he decided on the Challenger 7.4, which he kept docked at the marina.

  After a few minutes Libby relaxed, and they shared a companionable silence. She closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun and relaxed, really relaxed. Her tears earlier had been cathartic—they’d drained all the tension out of her, leaving her free of recriminations.

  The main sail caught the wind and the Challenger sliced through the water like a hot knife through butter. Surprised by the sudden burst of speed, Libby grabbed hold of the side and held on.

  Phillip laughed and motioned for her to come sit by him. “Come here by me,” he urged. “I’ll teach you to sail.”

  “Ah …” The desire to learn outweighed her reluctance to take over the helm. She settled close to his side, but he had her sit in front of him, wrapping his arms around her and letting her take hold of the wheel. He explained basic sailing theory to her but the words made little sense. Although she did her best to pay attention, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was basically in his arms. Her mind was spinning at an incredible speed, trying to take in how quickly her feelings for him, and apparently his for her, had changed.

  “You’re doing great,” he assured her. His hands rested on her shoulders as she held on to the wheel.

  “This is great.” Turning her head, she smiled up at him.

  “You’re a natural.”

  She laughed softly and then after only a short pause, Phillip leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. It was a gentle, exploratory kiss that quickly deepened. This man could kiss. Libby strained up toward him; her position was slightly uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. She continued to hold on to the helm with one hand and slipped her free arm around his neck. The sail went slack and the flapping noise of the canvas was barely discernible to Libby, but apparently not to Phillip. Gradually, he broke off the kiss and lifted his head. He took over again, but when Libby went to move, he stopped her.

  “I like having you here.”

  Still flushed and a bit light-headed, she leaned against him and sat in his embrace for an hour, perhaps longer. Neither of them felt the need to speak. Being this close to Phillip felt incredibly good. Every now and again he’d rest his hand against her shoulder or lean down and kiss the side of her neck. When he did Libby would close her eyes, unable to believe that within the space of a few hours she had gone from one of the lowest points of her life to such supreme joy. The transformation had happened because of Phillip.

  Eventually they headed back to the marina.

  “Being on the water always makes me hungry,” Phillip said as he motored into his marina slot. “How does fish and chips sound?”

  “Wonderful. I’m starved.”

  “I am, too.”

  He helped her off the boat, and they worked together to get the gear down and properly stored. When they started to leave, Phillip placed his arm around her shoulders.

  “Be careful now, these docks get slippery.” He slipped an arm around her waist, as though he needed an excuse to keep her close.

  “Especially in July,” she teased, noticing how dried out the wood seemed in the summer sunshine.

  “Especially in July,” Phillip echoed, chuckling.

  She looped her arm around his waist and together the two of them walked toward his car.

  This day had certainly been full of surprises.

  Chapter 13

  Friday morning Libby could hardly wait to get to the gym to see Robin. She would have phoned or sent a text, but her time with Phillip was something she wanted to discuss in person.

  They’d sat at the picnic tables outside the fish and chips stand and talked for two hours straight. He was completely different from what she’d expected. Her emotional collapse seemed to have made him willing to share deeper parts of his life with her.

  Libby had never been the chatty type. Yet she found it so incredibly easy to talk to Phillip now that she’d gotten past his seemingly reserved exterior. They discussed a dozen different subjects, from popular music to books, politics, and religion.

  He seemed genuinely interested in her opinions, some of which he agreed with and others of which he didn’t. She learned that he’d been badly burned in his last relationship. What she found remarkable was his honesty and willingness to acknowledge his part in the breakup. As one workaholic to another, she identified with him on a number of different levels. Afterward she felt buoyed, encouraged, and inspired.

  At the end of the evening, he walked her up to her condo and kissed her good night. It wasn’t a simple peck on the cheek. It was a heated exchange that rocked her to the very core of her being. It’d been difficult to break away from each other, and when they did his breath was as ragged as hers.

  The attraction she’d felt on the boat had exploded. Phillip felt it, too. Libb
y could see it in his eyes. He looked as shocked as she felt, as if he wasn’t sure this should be happening. They’d both been gun-shy because of previous relationships, and while what they felt was new and exciting, it was scary, too.

  She could hardly sleep; she was that happy. Her entire being was filled with a hopeful expectation that was unlike anything she’d experienced in a very long while.

  Libby was at her locker when Robin flew into the dressing room. Her friend’s face lit up the instant she saw Libby.

  “I’ve got news,” Robin said, gripping Libby by the forearms.

  Libby reached for her friend’s arms at the same time. “Me too.”

  “Let me go first.”

  “Okay,” Libby acquiesced. She was too happy to argue about anything so trivial.

  “I talked to Roy and he mentioned a position would be opening with the city as a junior prosecutor. I know it’s pretty much a starting position, but I think you’d quickly rise through the ranks, so please don’t be turned off by that.”

  Libby frowned. While grateful for any job opening, she wasn’t keen to be a prosecutor.

  “It’s for the department dealing with tax fraud and financial crimes.”

  This was an important component of estate work, with which Libby was well acquainted. This was promising, very promising. “This is big,” she whispered.

  “You’re telling me?” Robin joked. “This is huge, and right up your alley.”

  “Oh, Robin, thank you.” She briefly hugged her friend. To do something like this for her was outside Robin’s comfort zone.

  “I’ve got the information. You need to call first thing this morning,” Robin told her.

  “Done.”

  “Interviews are next Wednesday.”

  “Perfect.” She hoped she could arrange for hers to take place in the afternoon, as she was scheduled to volunteer at the hospital in the morning. Nevertheless, if asked to come in the morning Libby would. Sharon knew she could be called away at any time for work—finding a new job was her priority.