Free Night Music by Linda Cajio Page B

unspeaking.
    At least it wasn’t pistols at five paces, he thought. They’d probably blow a hole in the engine and sink the
Madeline Jo
. He’d thought he’d do anything to get his grandmother off his back, but that wasn’t one of them.
    He faced front again and gazed out over the water. He wished he’d drawn the line at Hilary too. Somehow she managed to push him out of control, like the way she had moved against him in the cramped galley, just the lightest touch of her bodyto his provoking that wild kiss. His blood heated again at the remembrance.
    He scowled. Only once before had he been out of control with a woman, and the results had been tragic. A part of his brain reminded him that there was no best friend this time, that Hilary was hardly brimming over with knowledge of her own sensuality, that she wasn’t a manipulator. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to lose his control again.
    Still, he wondered what she might do to ignite such a kiss again.…
    Forcing the thought of her aside, he steered the boat out away from the coast to deeper waters where schools of weakies and bluefish tended to gather. His rationale was that a bout of fishing might force the grandparents at least to acknowledge each other. Even though he wouldn’t be able to hear any conversation up there in the pilothouse and over the throb of the engines, he had the distinct feeling there wasn’t anything to hear.
    That was more ominous than the two of them toe to toe, arguing at the top of their lungs.
    He cut back the throttle until the boat stopped. The
Madeline Jo
bobbed up and down on the swells, rocking gently like a cradle. He climbed down the ladder.
    “Why have we stopped?” Lettice asked.
    “I thought we’d do a little fishing,” he said, opening up the portside bench and taking out a large tackle box and two rods. “Do you fish, Marsh?”
    The older man frowned, clearly not liking the use of his first name. Dev just grinned. Hell, if this worked, he’d be calling him Grandpa before too long.
    “I’ve done some in my time,” Marsh finally said.
    Dev handed him the heavier rod. “This ought to do you. It’s weakies and blues.”
    Marsh hefted the rod. “Feels right.”
    Dev handed the lighter one to his grandmother. He was surprised she hadn’t retreated below with Hilary. But then, Lettice would be damned before she’d back down.
    “And what am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.
    “Fish, woman,” Marsh snapped.
    “Let’s play nice,” Dev admonished. He felt like a referee at a heavyweight fight. If he didn’t stay out of the way, he was likely to get clipped.
    He got the bait bucket and pierced the hooks with bits of fish. Lettice wrinkled her nose. She reminded him of the women he didn’t normally allow on his boat, and the notion that his grandmother could be coquettish shocked him.
    Hilary came up from below carrying a tray. He saw that her feet were bare, and he grinned. She’d probably had enough of slipping and sliding around the galley.
    “I was missing you,” he said, falling easily into his role of lover. He refused to admit he fell into it a little too easily.
    Her lips turned up in a weak smile. “I missed you too. I’ve made iced tea with mint.”
    Lettice instantly put down her rod and took a glass.
    Marsh glanced at it disparagingly. “None for me.”
    “I’ve got the cheap stuff out of the jar just for you,” Hilary said.
    Her grandfather grinned at her, then fed out his line. Dev frowned at the obvious private joke. He hated private jokes.
    “What happened to your shoes, child?” Lettice asked.
    Hilary’s face turned from pale to red. “I forgot them.”
    “Let her be,” Marsh said, looking out over the water.
    “I was only asking,” Lettice said sharply.
    Dev looked at Hilary, then glanced heavenward. He took the tray from her and set it on the bench. “Come up with me.”
    “I have lunch …” she began.
    “For a little while,” he wheedled. Out of the corner of