Dawn in Eclipse Bay

tell her the truth. Not yet at any rate. He had problems enough dealing with it, himself.
    “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”
    “What?”
    “The fact that you found his weak spot and you used it to apply pressure to get him to confess.”
    He looked up, surprised. “No.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Let’s get something clear here.” He pushed aside the empty espresso cup and folded his arms on the table. “Protecting you is my only priority. I don’t give a damn about Flint’s finer feelings.”
    She searched his face. “I see. But if that’s true, then why are you acting so weird?”
    “I’m not acting weird.” He started to extricate himself from the booth. “Are you finished? Let’s go.”
    She reached across the table and covered one of his hands with her own. He went very still, intensely aware of the warmth of her fingers.
    “Gabe, I’m sorry. I know you’ve been through a lot because of me. I’m very grateful.”
    Anger heated his blood, just as the violence had earlier. He clamped down on the fierce surge of emotion, seeking refuge in that inner space to which he always retreated when things threatened to get out of control.
    “The last thing I want is your gratitude,” he said.
    She recoiled, her hand coming off his so swiftly an onlooker would have thought she had gotten her fingers burned.
    “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said tightly.
    He made himself breathe. “I know.” He got to his feet and reached for his wallet. “I’ll take you home.”
    “Sure.” She slipped quickly out of the booth and hurried toward the front door without looking back.
    He watched her rush away. Nice going, Madison, you really screwed that up, didn’t you?

chapter 24
    Gabe was thinking of shutting down the computer and walking to Lillian’s cottage to join her for lunch when he heard the sound of a car in the drive.
    He opened the front door and saw a large black Lincoln come to a halt in front of the steps. The man behind the wheel wore a dark, inexpensive suit and a single gold earring. A hired driver.
    The rear door of the vehicle opened. Sullivan Harte got out of the car.
    This did not look promising.
    Sullivan said something to the driver and then started toward the front porch.
    “I didn’t know you were in town,” Gabe said.
    The tip of Sullivan’s cane hit the first step. “We need to talk.”
    “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He held the door open. “Is this where you tell me that if I manage to sucker Lillian into marrying me you will make certain that she never inherits a dime’s worth of Harte Investments?”
    “Not quite.”
    Sullivan went past him into the house.
    Gabe glanced at the limo. The driver had pulled out a paperback novel and appeared to be content to remain where he was.
    Gabe followed his uninvited guest inside and let the door close behind him.
    “Coffee?”
    “I could use a cup.” Sullivan surveyed the desk where Gabe had left the laptop and a stack of papers. “You really trying to run Madison Commercial from here?”
    “I’m not trying to run it. I am running it from here. Technology is amazing.” Gabe went into the kitchen.
    “How long can you afford to stay away from the office?” Sullivan demanded.
    “Long as I want.” Gabe poured a cup of coffee and carried it into the living room. “Did you come here to talk about the wonders of modern techniques for long-distance management?”
    “No.”
    “Didn’t think so,” Gabe said.

    Mitchell slammed the newspaper down with such force that the little table vibrated on its spindly legs. He scowled at Bryce, who had just walked into Incandescent Body with the news.
    “What the hell do you mean, Sullivan Harte is in town?”
    “Saw him sitting in the back of a limo a few minutes ago,” Bryce said. “Passed me while I was at the gas station. Must have flown into Portland and hired a car and driver there. Thought you’d want to know.”
    “Damned right I want to know.” Mitchell grabbed his cane and levered himself to his feet. “Where was he headed?”
    “Took Bayview Drive. Could be on his way out to the Harte cottage.”
    “Or he could be headed toward the old Buckley place where Gabe is staying.” Mitchell tossed some money on the table. “What do you want to bet that he came here to try to scare off my grandson?”
    “Forget it. I never take bets on Hartes and Madisons. Too unpredictable.”

    Lillian studied the fresh canvas propped on the easel while she finished