Free A Woman To Blame by Susan Connell Page A

enough to fling her pearl drop earrings into tiny orbits. "That was something else. No, I didn't have any ideas at all. Anyone else have any?"
    Everyone shrugged at once, leaving Bryn to wonder if they'd rehearsed the move. Anything seemed possible when the committee turned their attention to Rick.
    "I'm not ready to give up on this tournament idea, so hear me out, Bryn," Rick said. "It's still the most profitable fund-raiser I know of, and it won't run us ragged this summer. I've already spoken to the two other marinas on Malabar Key, and they both told me they'd be glad to get involved with it."
    "Oh, really?" Bryn asked. "Didn't it occur to you to speak to me before going ahead on your own?"
    Shoving his blazer back, he calmly propped his hand on his hip below his belt. His friendly expression disintegrated into a series of frown lines between his brows and on either side of his blue eyes. Conviction deepened his voice. "Look, I thought this would go a lot faster for everyone if I took care of the footwork myself. I happen to know what people will go for around here. Do you have a problem with that?"
    "The problem," she said, crossing her arms and stepping closer to him, "is that I've spent valuable time away from my business and the restaurant to work on several ideas. If you would have returned my calls this week, we might have figured out a way to use our time more efficiently." She ignored the whispers around her of a possible insurrection.
    "We already talked about that this morning," Rick said, rubbing his thumbnail across his brow, "and I believe I told you that I've been busy."
    "Well, Captain Parrish, I believe I told you the same thing."
    "Ah, yes," he said, nodding as he waved his hand to indicate the rest of the room. "Painting the world yellow, I see."
    She knew she could continue clashing with him over the fund-raiser indefinitely, but the moment he started in on the restaurant, something snapped inside her. Turning Pappy's Crab Shack into Chez Madison was never meant to be a situation where she had to prove her competency to anyone, especially Rick Parrish. Yet with each snafu she encountered in the restaurant project, her apprehension grew. Stooping down, she snatched the pile of wet napkins from the floor and plopped them onto the table. Ignoring the people trying to step out of the way of the splattering tea, she reached down for the pitcher and slammed it on the table. When she went after the last few pieces of unmelted ice, four sets of legs scurried for the exit.
    "Sounds like you two have a bowl of wet spaghetti to straighten out, so we'll let you get to it," Rita shouted over her shoulder.
    "Call us again sometime," Millie added.
    Bryn was up and on her feet and hurrying after them with ice pieces cupped in her hands. "Wait! Please don't go."
    "It's five-hundred-dollar night at bingo, Millie," Rita said, pulling her friend by the hand. "We can make the second half if we hurry."
    "People, please! There's no need to run off. We need to talk," she shouted.
    Jiggy and May Leigh didn't bother answering. They were down the steps and climbing onto Jiggy's motorcycle by the time Bryn reached the railing.
    While she continued pleading with the group, Rick started across the room. Before he was halfway there, she had dropped the ice over the railing and was slapping the wetness from her hands.
    "I hope you're satisfied, Captain," she said, bracing herself against the railing while she pulled off one jewel encrusted sandal and then the other.
    "Me?" he asked, opening his hands toward her. She thrust her sandals into them and hurried around the decorative screen and down the steps. He quickly followed her. "What do you mean, you hope I'm satisfied?" He reached the bottom as Rita's rusty Mustang made the turn out of the parking lot.
    "Your presence intimidated them enough to send them bolting like frightened deer." She pointed toward the taillights of Millie's late-model station wagon, which was trailing close