That Summer Place by Susan Wiggs, Debbie Macomber, Jill Barnett - That Summer Place

shoved up his arms and the tails out and halfway unbuttoned. His dark hair was wind tousled, and he hadn’t shaved. His beard was dark and scruffy and sexy as all get-out. He looked like an older more weathered version of JFK Jr.
    She crossed her arms. “How did you manage to get that dark of a tan in the Northwest this time of year? It always rains until June or July.”
    “I didn’t. I got it in Cabo.” He stopped and added, “On a fishing trip.”
    Cabo San Lucas? Well, she thought, they said the dollar went pretty far in Mexico these days. And his financial status was none of her business, she told herself.
    “Do you think your daughters would like to sail in this?”
    “Oh, Michael. Anyone would like to sail in that!” She looked at the boat and got choked up. “It almost looks new.”
    “I take care of my things,” was all he said, then he grabbed a sack, stuck of couple of colored tools in his back pockets and turned back to her. “I got to thinking last night about that ignitor.”
    “Oh my. What an exciting life you must have.”
    He looked down at her through narrowed eyes. “Now I see where your daughter gets her smart mouth.”
    Catherine rolled her eyes. “Every sassy thing I have ever said has come back to haunt me. Now what was so interesting about the ignitor?” She placed her hand on his arm. “And don’t get too technical, okay? I don’t sleep well standing up.”
    He laughed and held up the sack. “I think I’ve found the solution.”
    “You can fix it?”
    “Let’s just say that it might work now.”
    “If you can get the boiler working we won’t have to leave.”
    “I know.”
    She looked up at him, at the pleased look on his face. He wanted them to stay. Ohmygod, but she was in trouble and she was so happy about it she almost shouted out loud.
    “Go get your daughters ready for a day of sailing, Squirt, and I’ll see if I can’t get that boiler going.” He winked, then a moment later disappeared around the corner of the house.
    Laughing, Catherine sliced her fists through the air. “Yes!” Then she ran up the steps and called her girls.
     
    The sailboat sliced through the water, leaving a stringy trail behind it. They had been on the boat all morning, during which time Michael had shown Dana and Aly how to work the lines and jib. To her daughters’ surprise, Catherine had helped him coach them, then sat back watching them make their accomplishments and their mistakes. She never criticized them, but let them learn on their own.
    She seemed relaxed and ready to just have fun, as if this kind of outing was a rare and unique moment in her life. It was one of the things he remembered about her, her ability to take the most joy from a moment no matter how trivial it might seem to everyone else.
    Even now her arms were resting casually on the rim of the boat and her blond hair was flying back with the wind. She was laughing at something Aly said, and watching her made him smile.
    She leaned forward, opened a cooler. “Here.” She handed him a beer.
    He leaned closer to take it and their bare knees touched. She looked startled, as if she’d just gotten a shock.
    He smiled to himself and leaned back, then let the wind take them through the channel while he took a swig of beer.
    She hadn’t moved her knees.
    Both her girls had been eager to watch and try to work the sails themselves. Dana was like a different person. No more playing the role of moody teen.
    There was a strange kind of intensity about her. She had watched him, every single movement, as if he were a textbook on how to sail. Focused and serious, she took it all in. She wanted to do well. You could see the determination in her face. There was a drive in this girl that was different from both Aly and Catherine. He’d seen this same kind of drive in the men he did business with, the successful ones. This kid had potential.
    Aly sat back after she had popped open a Coke. She looked at him. “Do you know why the