LITMIR.BIZ

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tomorrow. Emma knew Dave could use the money. The more divers he had on board, the more he made to help him pay off his loan on the boat.

      She couldn’t forbid him from taking on more divers. At least Creed would be diving in the rocky shallows at Cape Churn, and he’d proven he was capable.

      Emma hoped they spent less time on the submerged yacht and more time searching for the Anna Maria.

      Molly led Creed up the stairs to a door off the upper landing, ducking inside with him to explain the facilities.

      Emma wandered around the great room shared by all the occupants of the B and B. The house had been left to Molly and Gabe McGregor on the deaths of their parents. Unable to afford the upkeep on the huge old house, Molly had converted it into a comfortable and thriving bed-and-breakfast. She seemed happy about her work and what she’d done with the place and was content with her choices in life.

      Gabe had met the young artist Kayla Davies, the love of his life, who’d moved into the old lighthouse cottage.

      Emma had made friends with Kayla, and they’d met for coffee once a week down by the marina until Kayla had her baby.

      As Molly descended the stairs, she smiled at Emma. “Such a nice man. Where did you find him?”

      “I didn’t find him, Gabe did. He came out on the dive boat with us today.”

      “Oh, a diver?” Molly nodded. “Come, help me set the table. You can fill me in on Mr. Thomas.” She marched into the dining room and pulled plates, bowls, napkins and silverware from an antique buffet.

      “Creed,” Emma corrected, opting to place the plates. “He wanted you to call him Creed. Anyone besides us three having lunch today?”

      “No. The other guests are out enjoying the sunshine. It’s just the three of us.”

      Emma groaned. “I’ll be a third wheel.”

      “As if that could happen. We’re just having lunch. Emma, you can be so melodramatic at times.”

      “I’m much more comfortable cleaning up scraped knees and diving than I am talking at a dinner table. Besides, he’s not my type.”

      “What type would that be? You haven’t had a type since Randy left town. And that type you can do without.”

      A stab of anger, guilt and longing settled over Emma. She’d thought she had a type once. Had even been engaged. Randy had been attentive, loving and accepting of her sometimes crazy work schedule at the hospital. He’d also been lying, cheating and stealing from the funds raised for the new hospital wing.

      “Besides, if anyone is a third wheel,” Molly continued, “it would be me.” Gabe’s sister laughed, her joy of life infectious, making it hard for Emma to hold on to her anger or her guilt. Still, she didn’t want to tell Molly about the new guy in town. Her own thoughts about him were far too confusing, and she hadn’t had time to process them thoroughly.

      “So, where’s he from?” Molly wasn’t going to let her off lightly.

      “I don’t know.” Emma folded a napkin and laid it on the plate.

      “Why’s he in town?” Molly persisted.

      “He’s an insurance adjuster, or something like that. He came looking for a yacht his company insured.” At least Emma had one answer. Please, Molly, no more questions.

      “Is he married?”

      Emma stepped back. “Why don’t you ask him?” She hadn’t thought to inquire, nor was she interested. Having been engaged once, she had no intention of repeating that heartache. “He’s not wearing a ring, if that matters.”

      “Good grief, woman. You’ve been in the man’s company for how long, and you haven’t gotten the basics?” Molly shook her head.

      “I’m not interested.” Emma headed for the kitchen. “Don’t we have some chowder that needs to be served?”

      Molly followed. “If you’re not interested in the man, then do you mind if I am?”

      With her back to Molly, Emma poured the pot of chowder into an empty soup tureen. The thought of Molly dating the handsome diver didn’t sit right with Emma, and darned if she knew why. “Be my guest. He’s all yours.”

      “Am I interrupting?” The object of their conversation pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.

      Emma spun, her face heating.

      Molly clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled like a schoolgirl.

      Pushing her embarrassment to the side, Emma answered, “No.” Thanks, Molly. Let’s not be too obvious about who we were talking about.

      Emma lifted the heavy tureen and shoved it toward Creed. “Do you mind taking this into the dining room?”

      “Not at all.” He carried the container into the other room as if it was as light as a feather, the door swinging closed behind him.

      Molly burst out laughing, her eyes filling with tears. “What timing.”

      Emma grabbed Molly’s wrist. “Let’s get this straight—I’m not interested in Creed Thomas, and I don’t want to talk about him. Got it?”

      Her lips still trembling, Molly nodded. “Got it.” She grabbed a basket of bread sticks and pushed through the door, a smile on her face. “So, Mr. Thomas, are you married?”

      Emma groaned, glanced around for a door to escape through, then thought better of it. No telling what Molly would be saying to the newcomer. Emma might need to be there to make sure she didn’t get in trouble. She armed herself with a pitcher of lemonade and followed Molly.

      Creed glanced across at Emma as she entered, the lemonade in front of her like a shield to ward off handsome men and her attraction to them. Damned if it wasn’t working.

      “I almost got married once, but it didn’t work out.”

      “Why, if you don’t mind my asking?” Molly happily quizzed.

      Emma almost turned around, lemonade and all, and retreated into the kitchen. Molly didn’t know a stranger and wasn’t afraid to ask the tough questions.

      Creed’s voice made Emma stop before she’d half-turned. “Seems she liked my partner better.”

      Something tightened in Emma’s chest, and she turned back to the dining room.

      The diver had answered Molly, but his gaze captured Emma’s.

      Emma knew betrayal and loss and, by the look on Creed’s face, he knew them intimately, as well. A brief flash of connection blazed between them.

      “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Molly reached out and touched Creed’s arm. “That must have been hard for you.”

      Creed shrugged Molly’s hand from his arm and held out a chair for her. “Not too hard. The incident made me realize that a commitment wasn’t in the cards for someone in my line of work. I’m away too often.”

      Caught up in the conversation, despite her best effort to remain immune, Emma asked, “Insurance adjusting keeps you away from home a lot?”

      Creed rounded the side of the table and held Emma’s chair for her before he answered. “I investigate special cases. It takes me all over the country and sometimes the world.”

      Emma sat, her attention captured by his nearness and the scent of sun, salt and ocean permeating the air around him. “You’re kind of like a government agent then, like the FBI or CIA, only for a commercial company?”

      He scooted the chair back across from Emma and folded his long form into it. His moves were smooth and deliberate as he settled, his gaze rising to meet Emma’s. “My job’s not as glamorous.”

      Caught off guard by his pointed stare, Emma blurted,

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