His Winter Rose

Lookout Point had always been a place where teens met for a good-night kiss. That’s probably who was out there now.

She stood watching for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the mayor and the many plans he had for the direction the town should take. She’d never had a problem working with anyone before, but something about the way Jason Franklin had watched her respond to the council’s questions made her wonder if he was as confident of her abilities as he’d said.

In her past jobs she’d been given a mandate and left to accomplish it, filing the paperwork, making her reports at the appropriate stages. But primarily she’d been her own boss. A tiny voice in the back of her head told her this job wouldn’t be like that. Mayor Franklin had an agenda. He wanted the Bay to start growing and he wanted it to happen his way. From what he’d said, Piper was fairly certain he wanted it to happen yesterday. It might be hard to appease him when developers didn’t immediately respond to her initial probes.

She smothered a yawn and padded back to bed.

Whatever happened, happened. She’d deal with it.

Maybe in doing her job she could coax Jason’s diamond-blue eyes to come alive, maybe get him to loosen up a little. Piper had a hunch that somewhere under all that grit and determination, a guy with a sense of humor lurked.

Maybe the girls were right. Maybe Jason Franklin would turn out to be more than the mayor.

Maybe she could finally come to terms with why God had taken away the only people who’d loved her and left her with a father who couldn’t see beyond his money to the daughter who wanted to be loved.

Chapter Two

When he’d handed in his resignation in Boston, he’d been told he wouldn’t last a year in the sticks.

A lot they knew.

Not only had he endured, he was thriving.

Jason swallowed the last of his morning coffee, certain he’d never tire of this view. He had no desire to go back. Not to traitors….

Don’t think about it.

He jerked to his feet. In his haste to escape what he couldn’t forget, he almost crashed the foot of his chair into the Plexiglas panel surrounding the deck.

“Calm down,” he ordered his racing pulse. “Just calm down. Forget the past. Let it die.”

Easier said than done.

Originally he’d thought living on top of his marina store was the kind of kooky idea one of his former high-flying clients might have come up with. But after two years in Serenity Bay, he still relished his perch high above the water.

His neighbor to the left was an age-old forest whose trees sheltered him from the wind. On the right, Jason shared the view with the docks and a public beach.

Nobody watched him, and he only watched the water. A little lonely, perhaps. But then again, he’d come to Serenity Bay for the solitude. At least that’s what he told himself.

Today the sun shone, the water sparkled and sent the wind skimming over the land in a faint caress. Serenity Bay looked picture-perfect.

He squinted across the lake. That early sailor with two sheets billowing in the wind was bolder than most. The fun seekers he’d once hung around with wouldn’t have endured more than five minutes of this cool April breeze blowing off the barely thawed lake before they’d turn back.

But this sailor didn’t hesitate. The craft continued on a clear, invisible course directed by sure and steady hands, straight toward Jason. The streamlined hull pointed into the wind with gutsy determination. He liked the brashness of it—thrusting ahead on an unswerving course to get where you were going, no matter what.

That’s what he was doing.

Fresh air, pure sunshine and a landscape only the Creator could have fashioned was about all anyone could ask.

Just about.

“Lucky guy.” He wasted several minutes watching the pristine sailboat flit across the water like a butterfly set free from the cocoon of winter. Then he decided it was time to get to work.

He balanced his last cinnamon bun and a thermos of coffee in one hand, pulled the door closed with the other and descended the circular stairs into his office, unable to resist a glance through the wall of windows that overlooked the lake.

The sailboat was making good time. Obviously whoever was operating her knew exactly what he was doing.

At the height of summer when the days were heavy with heat and the promise of cool lake water beckoned, Jason often envied the freedom and peace a sailboat offered. But he freely admitted his knowledge lay in engines, the kind that sent speedboats tearing across the lakes, towing skiers or tube riders through the water. Or the kind that powered fishing boats and let them troll at a leisurely pace. Engines he understood. He could talk motors with the best of them.

But sailing? You needed money for beauties like that sailboat, and men who built marinas in small lake towns that development hadn’t yet reached seldom found cash to spare.

A noise drew his attention to the dock and he stepped outside.

“Hey, Andy. Did you get those rentals all cleaned up?”

“Yes, sir.” Andy saluted him, then grinned. “You find the customers, I’ve got the boats spick-and-span.”

The kid looked like a double for an actor on Gilligan’s Island. That effect was enhanced by a kooky sailor cap Andy loved, but which always slipped to one side of his shiny head.

“Ready to roll, boss. I also swabbed the decks, checked the minnow stock and measured the gas tank. We’re good to go on all counts. Now I’ll get at that painting.”

“Good job.” The boy was an employer’s dream. He took pride in accomplishing his duties before being asked.

Andy reminded Jason of himself, long ago, before he’d learned that fresh-faced eagerness wasn’t necessarily an asset in the corporate world.

“You see that?” Andy’s gaze was also on the trim red craft and the pristine sails. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

The sharp bow cut cleanly through the crest of waves, zooming ever closer, sails puffed out smooth. As they watched, the boat tacked left, turning in a perfect half circle as it headed into the harbor, straight toward them.

“I hope he knows how to bring her in. It’ll cost a fortune if I have to get those docks redone.”

Andy grinned, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, boss. The way that beauty’s moving, there’s no novice at the helm. Man, I’d love a chance to go out in her.”

Who wouldn’t? Jason pretended to busy himself, but he kept close watch as the sailor trimmed his sails perfectly and the delicate red hull slipped easily into dock. He turned away, refusing to let the owner of such magnificence witness his jealousy. Someday, when he retired, maybe he’d get a boat like that.

Someday.

“Ahoy, there. Mind tying me off?”

That voice was familiar. Jason twisted around, watched Andy snatch the line tossed at him and fasten stem and stern so that the sailboat was perfectly docked against Styrofoam buoys that would keep its hull mar free. Golden letters in a delicate font shone from the bow. Shalimar.

The sailboat’s captain accepted Andy’s hand and stepped onto the dock. Once the thick coat was unzipped and he caught a glimpse of her face, Jason realized the sailor was a woman.

Piper Langley.

She tossed her coat inside the hull, then drew the red knitted cap she was wearing from her head and flipped it into the boat, allowing her glossy black curls to dance in the breeze.