In McGillivray's Bed Read Online Free Page B

glance now as he slowed the boat and headed it into Pelican Cay’s small harbor. Once she’d told him her amazing tale, he’d revved the engine and headed for the island, full speed ahead. Still, it had taken close to half an hour to get there, and the sun had gone down completely now.
    In the darkness reflections streamed across the water from the row of street lamps along the quay and from the houses that fronted the harbor. The small houses that climbed the low hill of Pelican Town looked almost like dolls’ houses, tidy and laid-back and welcoming all at once.
    Home. Hugh smiled as he always did at the sight, though he doubted it would impress Miss Margaret Sydney St. John. Why ever she did or didn’t jump off the boat, she’d clearly been on it. And that—and the way she looked down her lovely nose at him—told him that she was from a higher rung on the social ladder than him and most of the people who lived in Pelican Town or who made their living on the fishing boats bobbing in the harbor tonight.
    Folks like them didn’t name their girls Sydney for onething. Hugh snorted, thinking about it. Hell of a stupid name for a girl. He supposed her old man had been counting on a son.
    Probably she was a “junior,” he thought with a wry grin. From what she’d said he gathered that her old man was married to his company and thought his daughter was merely an extension of it.
    Not that she’d been complaining. God, no.
    She had actually defended the old man and St. John Electronics fervently when he’d asked her why the hell she would care if she embarrassed its CEO by telling him hell no she wasn’t going to marry him.
    â€œI couldn’t do that!” she’d protested. “It would have made the company look bad if Roland and I were at odds. Besides, it would upset my father.”
    â€œYou don’t think maybe hearing his daughter had been eaten by a shark would have upset him?” Hugh had demanded.
    He was almost sorry he’d been so blunt when she’d gone white in the moonlight. It was, he realized, the first time she really seemed to consider the concrete implications of what she’d done.
    But even then she’d given herself a little shake.
    â€œI wasn’t eaten,” she’d reminded him almost defiantly.
    But her tone didn’t sound quite as firm as it had. And she’d clutched the quilt around her even more tightly and determinedly looked away.
    Hugh had left her to it. He’d kicked up the speed and focused on the island, only glancing her way occasionally and scowling as she looped an arm companionably over Belle and drew his dog inside the quilt with her.
    Belle was still there now, snuggled in. Hugh shut his eyes and tried not to think about it.
    He was having way too strong a reaction to Margaret Sydney St. John. It disconcerted him. The only woman who’d inspired anything like it had been Carin—for all the good that had done him. He had no interest in having reactions like that ever again—and certainly not about a crazy woman!
    It wasn’t really her per se, he assured himself, gorgeous though she was. It was just the lack of any other woman in his life. In his bed.
    Plagued as he had been every waking moment this summer by the determined attentions of the sweet marriageable Lisa, he’d found other women tended to give him a wide berth.
    â€œYou have a girlfriend,” they always explained when they turned him down for dates.
    â€œShe’s not my girlfriend!” Hugh had claimed over and over.
    But the protest fell on deaf ears. And on Lisa’s ears. And Lisa ignored them.
    â€œWell, if I’m not your girlfriend, who is?” Lisa had asked confidently.
    â€œI don’t have a girlfriend!” he’d protested.
    Too much.
    Women! Hugh despaired of them. They were all crazy as loons.
    At least this one—Miss Margaret Sydney St. John—would be out of his