Summer in Eclipse Bay

of Hartes. The company had been a personal triumph for him, a phoenix rising from the ashes after the destruction of Harte-Madison, the commercial real estate development business he had founded with his former partner, Mitchell Madison, here in Eclipse Bay.
    The collapse of the company decades earlier had ignited a feud between Sullivan and Mitchell that had thrived until recently. The bad blood between the Hartes and the Madisons was legendary in these parts. It had provided fodder for the gossips of Eclipse Bay for three generations.
    But the first crack in the wall that had separated the two very different families had come last fall when Rafe Madison, the bad boy of the Madison family, had married Nick's sister Hannah. Several more bricks had crumbled last month when his other sister, Lillian, had wed Gabe Madison.
    But the earth-shattering news that Harte Investments and Gabe's company, Madison Commercial, were in the process of merging had been the final blazing straw as far as the good people of Eclipse Bay were concerned. The newly formed corporation, after all, effectively re-created the company that had been ripped apart at the start of the feud. Life had seemingly come full circle.
    "You may be right about the Winston picture," Nick said. "But the house is pretty good, too. The green flower is a great touch."
    "Yeah, but there will be lots of houses and flowers in the art show. All the kids I know like to draw houses and flowers. Probably won't be any other dogs, though. Hardly anyone can draw a dog, especially not one as good as Winston."
    "Winston is unique. I'll give you that."
    Carson looked up at him with a considering expression. "I've been thinking, Dad."
    "What?"
    "Maybe you shouldn't come with me when I take my pictures to Miss Brightwell tomorrow."
    Nick raised his brows. "You want me to wait in the car?"
    Carson smiled, clearly relieved. "Good idea. That way she won't even see you."
    "You're really afraid I'm going to mess up your shot at getting a picture into the gallery show, aren't you?"
    "I just don't want to take any chances."
    "Sorry, pal. I've got my own agenda here and I'm not about to waste a perfectly good opportunity to move ahead with it just because you're worried she won't hang your picture."
    So he didn't have a lot of interest in the family business. He was still a Harte, Nick thought: He was just as goal-oriented and capable of focusing on an objective as anyone else in the clan.
    "If you wait in the car," Carson said ingratiatingly, "I promise I'll tell Miss Brightwell that it would be okay to go out with you."
    One of the Harte family mottos in action, Nick thought, not without a degree of sincere admiration.
When you find yourself backed into a corner, negotiate your way out of it.
    "Let me get this straight." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and looked down at his son. "If I agree to stay out of the way tomorrow, you'll put in a good word for me?"
    "She likes me, Dad. I think she'd agree to go out with you if I asked her."
    "Thanks, but no thanks. I may not have followed in the family footsteps like Dad and Granddad, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to get what I want."
    And he definitely wanted Octavia Brightwell.
    That, he thought, was the real reason he and Carson were in Eclipse Bay for an extended stay. He had come here to lay siege to the castle of the Fairy Queen.
    "Well, okay, but promise you won't wreck things for me."
    "I'll do my best."
    Resigned, Carson turned back to the dog picture. "I think Winston needs more fur."
    He selected a crayon and went to work.
    She was an out-and-out coward.
    Octavia sat on the stool behind the gallery sales counter, the heels of her sandals hooked on the top rung, and propped her chin on her hands. She regarded the phone as if it were a serpent.
    One date.
    How could it hurt to go out with Nick Harte just once?
    But she knew the answer to that. If she accepted one invitation, she would probably accept another. And then there would be a third. Maybe a fourth. Sooner or later she would end up in bed with him and that would be the biggest mistake of her life. Some thrill rides were just too risky.
    They called him Hardhearted Harte back in Portland. Nick had a reputation for confining his relationships to discreet, short-term affairs that ended whenever his partner of the moment started pushing for a commitment.
    According to the gossip she had heard, Nick never went to bed with a woman without first having