Introduction

Their letters could lead to lasting love . . . or expose Sabrina's mortifying secret.

Sabrina Kincaid didn't intend to fall for Nantucket native Tucker McCabe, the man she serves coffee to every morning-a man tied to a past she deeply regrets. But she has. And she's fallen hard.

But she's kept this a secret from her handsome customer. And now Tucker wants to hire Sabrina to help locate his friend "Sweetpea"-the mysterious woman he's falling in love with online. Sabrina is not inclined to help, but if Tucker hires someone else, it could spell disaster. Because if someone else sifted through the emails and figured out the truth-then Tucker would discover that the person he's trying to find is . . . her.

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Excerpt

Betrayal flips a switch you didn't know existed. Suddenly you're on guard. No one is above suspicion, no one is as honest as they seem, and it's all because of this basic truth: You're too afraid to risk it all again.

Chapter One

Sabrina Kincaid heard the jingle of the café's glass door open and glanced at the clock above the work station. Seven-twelve on the dot.

She grabbed the fresh pot, turned toward the tables crowding the Cobblestone Café, then headed straight to his table-might as well get it over with-table seven, a two-topper near the front.

He would be seated against the bead board wall, facing the kitchen, unfortunately. He would be wearing his blue "Cap'n Tucker's Water Taxi" cap, a light colored T-shirt, and a crooked grin. She would offer him coffee, he would accept, then he would spread open the Inquirer and Mirror and take thirty minutes on all twelve articles while she waited on other customers, her bony knees knocking together like bamboo wind chimes.

"Evan," Gordon called from the kitchen. "Table twelve needs to be bussed."

Evan's blond ponytail flipped over his shoulder as he turned and wiped his hands on his stained brown apron. "Right, dude."

Sabrina stopped a foot from the scarred maple table, avoiding eye contact, looking only at the fat rim of the ivory mug as he slid it toward her.

How many words had they exchanged in the year he'd been coming to the café? One hundred? Two hundred? Couldn't be much more than that.

As always her expression was free of emotion, though a powerful hurricane brewed inside. It was a skill she'd learned early, perfected well, and if that had earned her the title of Ice Princess, so be it.

"Morning, Sabrina." Tucker's deep voice was raspy. And, as usual, he cleared his throat after the greeting.

Was she the first person he spoke to each morning? The thought made her hand tremble. A stream of hot coffee flowed over the cup's ridge and onto Tucker's thumb. He jerked his hand back.

Idiot! Her first spill in months and it had to be Tucker. And hot coffee.

"I'm sorry. Let me fetch a towel." She turned toward the kitchen, heat flooding her face.

He stopped her with his other hand. "I'm fine." He wiped his thumb on a napkin and held it out. "See?"

Sabrina made the mistake of meeting his eyes. Oh, yes. She saw all right. Under the brim of his cap, his blue eyes contrasted with his summer-brown skin. One strand of dark hair curled like a backward "C", nearly tangling with his eyelashes. He disliked his curly hair, but hated going to the barber so much that he procrastinated until it was an unruly mop. He wore contacts because he was near-sighted and because glasses would blur under the sprays of water as he guided his boat.

He was still looking at her.

She was still looking at him.

Look away. Say something. "Anything else?"

"A smile?" Tucker's own grin lifted the tiny scar near the corner of his mouth-a souvenir from the time his twin sister dared him to jump from his second story bedroom window when he was nine.

But Sabrina wasn't supposed to know about that. She pulled at the tip of her braid with her empty hand.

"Give it up, McCabe." Behind her, Oliver Franklin's voice was a lifeline. "Top me off, Sabrina?"

She turned, grateful for the distraction, and filled his cup. The sand-colored coffee darkened to caramel as she poured, the rich smell of the brew drifting upward on wings of steam.

"Not feeling particularly efficacious this morning?" Oliver tilted his round head, his hairline receding another inch as he hiked his bushy grey brows. He gripped the mug with fat hands calloused from garden tools.

"I'm as efficient as always, just a bit clumsy today." Sabrina took his egg-streaked plate and stacked a smaller plate on top.

"Dagnabit, Sabrina," he said as she walked away. "Is there a word you don't know?"

She deposited the plates into Evan's tub, set the pot on the warmer, and loaded a tray with table five's food. Was Tucker watching her? She always felt like he was, which was ludicrous. Still, it made her stand a little straighter, smile a little more-at other customers. He was good for her tips.

You're just some server he toys with. Nothing else.

When she turned with the loaded tray, her eyes pulled toward him. Don't look. Just walk. Look at the sun streaming through the glass front. Look at the family at table seven, the toddler, crouched in the wooden high chair, letting loose a wail that could be heard clear down at the wharf. Sabrina pulled a packet of crackers from her apron pocket and slipped it to the mom as she passed.

When she reached table five, she served the food then tucked the tray under her arm. "Anything else?"

"Tabasco sauce?" The mother asked. "Oh, and he needs a refill of juice." She handed Sabrina her son's cup. The overhead lights sparkled off a diamond the size of a pearl.

"Be right back." She had to pass Tucker's table on the way.

He turned as she passed, his sandaled foot sliding into her path as he shifted into the aisle. "Sabrina. I know you're busy, but I was wondering if we could chat a minute."

The request stopped her cold. Sabrina didn't chat with customers. Char chatted with customers, even the rich ones. Evan chatted with customers too. But not Sabrina, and certainly not with Tucker. It broke her unspoken line between customer and server, and that line was the only thing separating her from disaster. "I-I have too many tables."

"Miss, some decaf, please?" An elderly tourist, seated at the table behind Oliver's, corroborated her excuse.

"Of course." Sabrina went to fill the cup with juice, grabbed a bottle of Tabasco and the decaf pot. What could Tucker want? As far as he knew, she was only a server at the café.

Maybe he knows.

But he couldn't. She'd been so careful.

Yeah, so careful she'd lost her heart to the man.

I have not lost my heart. He's just a friend. A dear friend that would be lost forever with just one little slip of the tongue. The relationship was hanging by a dangling thread and she knew it.

Sabrina dropped off the two items for the family then poured the decaf. She'd no sooner turned the carafe upright when Tucker stopped her again. His cup was empty. "I'll be right back with the regular," she said even though she knew it wasn't coffee he wanted. It was a feeble stall that would buy her thirty seconds.

She stopped on the way to the coffee station and took the orders of a middle aged couple, buying herself a few more minutes. Maybe if she took too long, Tucker would leave.

Sabrina put the order on the wheel and reviewed the dinner special with Gordon. She filled glasses with orange juice and ice water, set them on a tray and delivered them to the table. In her peripheral vision, she saw Tucker waiting, his arms folded across the newspaper, rooted like a one hundred year old oak tree. He wasn't going anywhere.

Reluctantly, she retrieved the coffee pot and returned to his table, filling it carefully.

"How about after work?" he asked, picking up the conversation as if it were only seconds later.

What did he want? Maybe he wanted to ask her out. The thought filled her, expanding her lungs like an inflated balloon. Then she felt the prick of jealousy. Pop.

She nearly rolled her eyes at the irony. "I have to be somewhere."

Behind her, Oliver chuckled, and Tucker shot him a look. He gave the brim of his hat a sharp tug.

Sabrina walked away. Her second job had flexible hours, but he didn't know that. Besides, Renny was expecting her. She had to find the perfect poison and that would take a while.

The bell at the kitchen window dinged.

She was at the coffee station before she realized Tucker had followed her. His large frame made her feel small and cornered. He'd never gone further than his table, and the fact that he did so today confirmed her suspicion that he wanted something more than idle conversation. And he wasn't giving up.

The rubber heels of her shoes brushed the wall behind her, and she straightened, meeting his gaze.

"Just a few minutes, all I'm asking."

His nearness sucked the moisture from her mouth and the thoughts from her head. She smoothed her thick hair toward her low braid. Say something. Anything.

"All right," she blurted. Anything but that.

His mouth relaxed, and the relief in his blue eyes made something twist in the pit of her stomach. "Thank you. I won't take much of your time. I'll meet you out front if it's all right with you? There's a bench down the way. . . ."

She nodded, all at once relieved and disappointed they were meeting someplace so public. What is wrong with you?

His lips quivered at the corners and the faint lines around his eyes relaxed. He touched his fingers to the brim of his hat and retreated.

"What was that all about?" Char was a veteran waitress at the diner. Though not as efficient as Sabrina, her affability scored points with the regulars. "He finally making his move?" Her blond hair had kinked into poodle curls, forecasting the day's weather.

Sabrina turned and put two slices of bread in the toaster. "Don't be ridiculous."

The kitchen bell dinged twice.

"Char, you want to stop your gabbing and come get this food before it turns to rubber?" Gordon called through the window, wiping the back of his hand across his fat jowls.

"Don't say I didn't tell you so." Char winked a wide green eye, the mascara-thickened lashes fluttering.

Sabrina watched her walk away, wondering if she was right, hoping she was, then hoping she wasn't. She gave her head a sharp shake. She had five hours and four minutes to get her act together and suddenly that didn't seem like nearly enough time.

Sabrina threw her apron in the laundry bin and pulled her bag from the cubby in the break room. At least, Gordon called it a break room. It was more of a large closet with a table, two chairs, and enough wattage to light up Main Street at midnight.

The five hours since Tucker left had dragged by. She told herself she was dreading the meeting, but if that were the case, time would've raced, wouldn't it?

She slid the purse onto her shoulder and met her own gaze in the black-speckled mirror Char had perched on a shelf. Bending her knees so she could see her face, Sabrina pulled the rubber band, loosening the braid and freeing her brown hair. She raked her fingers through it, wishing for smooth, glossy strands like her cousins, but her fingers worked fruitlessly.

Giving up on her hair, she rubbed at a fleck of mystery food that clung to her temple. Maybe she should splash water on her face. She stood back and surveyed her reflection. Her brown eyes gazed back, her best feature, framed with dark lashes thick enough to make Char jealous.

What could Tucker want with her? Her respiration quickened at the thought of him. What if he knew? What if she'd slipped and said something that would ruin everything?

Char's words tweaked at the corners of her mind. He's finally making his move. . . .

Oh, for Pete's sake. He is not making his move. Sabrina grabbed the rubber band from her pocket and made a quick braid again. He owns a company. Maybe he's hosting some event and wants you to serve.

"Better not keep him waiting." Char's voice sounded from the doorway.

Her eyes tilted coyly and Sabrina felt heat flooding her face at being caught primping in the mirror like some pathetic adolescent. How many times had she found Jaylee and Arielle artfully applying makeup in front of their mirrors? Of course, it had paid off for her cousins.

"Oh, no, you don't." Char reached behind Sabrina and freed her braid.

"What are you doing?"

"Wear it down. Why do you always wear this infernal braid?"

Sabrina shifted as Char fluffed her hair. "We work in the restaurant industry."

"If I had hair like yours . . ." Char leaned back. "There. Much better. Now go, before he thinks you chickened out."

She squeezed past Char.

"Good luck, honey."

Luck. She'd need it if she hoped to hold it together. She exited the cafe, blinking against the bright Nantucket sunlight. Her feet navigated the bumpy brick sidewalk and she fell in step behind a cluster of summer people. If only she could squeeze into the middle and sneak past Tucker.

The bench was only three stores from the diner and over the bobbing heads she saw Tucker waiting on the bench, elbows propped on his knees, staring across the street. The distance closed between Sabrina and the inevitable conversation. There was no backing out now.

When she approached the bench, he stood. The group of tourists deserted her, leaving them alone on the sidewalk. In the distance, the ferry horn sounded, announcing its arrival at the wharf.

"Hi. Thanks for meeting me." He gestured toward the bench.

She lowered herself onto the wooden seat and set her bag in her lap. "You're welcome." Act normal. This is nothing out of the ordinary. You are a server and he is your customer. Nothing more.

"I know you have another job to get to, so I'll make this quick."

Quick would be good. Merciful. She gripped the leather handles of her purse and pulled it into her stomach.

"I was hoping to hire you for a project."

A curious mixture of relief and disappointment flooded Sabrina. She told herself it was relief that tightened her stomach. Now it's just a matter of listening to his proposal and saying no. I can say no then go home. She envisioned the cozy loft above Renny's garage as if she could beam herself there. She pictured her favorite quilt spread across the bed, the built-in shelves brimming with novels, the antique desk in the corner where her computer awaited her.

Focus, Sabrina.

"Go on." Sabrina crossed her legs. A pedestrian passed with a Golden Retriever on a pink leash, and she shifted to make room. The movement left her facing Tucker. He had one elbow propped on the back of the bench, his hand curling dangerously close to her shoulder.

"Well, the idea came about when Renny Hannigan contacted me about a trip to Tuckernuck Island. We started talking about her stories and she told me you're the mastermind behind the mysteries she writes-"

Sabrina shook her head. "I just do a little research for her."

"You're being modest. Renny told me about the twists you come up with. She raved that the stories are unsolvable because you find fresh angles and innovative ways to confuse the reader."

If Sabrina were that good, Renny's stories would be published by now. It wasn't lack of writing skill that kept her from publication. But what did her work for Renny have to do with Tucker?

"The things Renny said about you combined with what I already know made me think you were perfect person for this project."

"I already have two jobs. Between the diner and my research for Renny . . ." Her words petered out as he held up his hand.

"I know you're busy right now, but Renny said in another couple weeks you'd be finished with the book she's writing now and that she'd need several weeks of editing time before she'd need your help again with her next story."

Renny. Sabrina clenched her teeth together. Why'd the woman have to go and tell Tucker that? Maybe she should close the door on this conversation before it went any further.

"I don't think-I was looking forward to the time off when I finished the research. I think it would be best if-"

"Just hear me out, okay? If you don't want to do it, that's fine."

His hand spread across his thigh. He had big hands with long fingers that tapered down to squared-off fingertips. He liked working with them. He carved wooden animals in his spare time and gave them as gifts to his family. He'd once wanted to give her a sea gull he'd carved, but she'd refused the gift.

"Sabrina?"

She cleared her throat and watched a family of four squeeze into a taxi across the street, the brother and sister fighting over the middle seat. "I'm listening." Please just say what you have to say and let me go home where my heart rate can return to normal.

"Well, as I was saying, I have this project I need help with."

His voice was so deep it seemed to rumble through her body. Practice saying no. It's not my cup of tea. I don't have time, but thank you for the offer.

"It's kind of embarrassing, but here goes."

Now he had her attention.

"There's this girl--this woman, I mean."

Sabrina thought her heart was already in her toes, but it didn't quite hit the tips until then. She reached for the end of her braid but found her hair loose.

"I have feelings for her and-" He pulled off his cap and raked his hands through his curls. "Well, the sad fact is, I don't know where she is."

Sabrina looked at him. She couldn't help it. "What?" A missing person? He wanted help finding his missing girlfriend? But he didn't have a girlfriend, did he? A seed of pure jealousy, something she'd thought she'd banished from her life long ago, sprang up, twisting, leaving that familiar ache in its path.

"I'm bungling this, aren't I? Let me start at the beginning and maybe I can explain this better. There's this woman I've been exchanging letters with. Email. We've been communicating online for about a year."

Oh.

"We've gotten pretty friendly. Actually, she's an amazing woman."

He looked off in the distance and Sabrina was relieved to have his eyes anywhere but on her. This is not happening.

"I want to meet her in person. I know it sounds clichéd and corny, but I have feelings for her."

He looked at her, and she swore he could see right into her. She clutched the leather straps until her short nails dug into the flesh of her palm.

"Yeah, I know. You're wondering how I could fall for someone I've never met, but this is different. It's not like we set out to date online, it just happened. And you're probably wondering why we don't just meet up and live happily ever after."

Sabrina tried to speak but her voice had jumped off two exits ago.

"I'd like nothing more, but the problem is, she won't meet in person. I don't know why, but it doesn't matter. I need to find her."

"Find her?"

His eyes bore into hers. "I need your help."

"I can't."

"You're the perfect person for the job. I need someone who can string together clues. I have hundreds of letters filled with information, but she's been careful not to write anything overt about her location. I need someone smart and intuitive. Someone like you."

"I'm not the right person."

"Renny thinks you'd be perfect."

Renny. She'd wring the woman's neck! Sabrina needed another tactic. Anything. "This woman-obviously she doesn't want to be found. Maybe you should leave things alone and continue the relationship as it is."

"I want to be with her."

"Maybe-" Could she be so cruel? She pressed her spine to the bench. Desperate needs called for desperate measures. "Maybe she doesn't want to be with you. Maybe she's, I don't know, married or something."

"She's not married."

"How can you know?"

"She's not. I know."

Sabrina wetted her lips. Brushed at a mustard spot on the leg of her khakis. "There has to be some reason she won't meet you."

He lowered his voice. "I'm sure there is. I think she's afraid of taking the next step or something, but I don't think she'll tell me until I find her."

She gulped. What do I say? How do I get out of this? If she said no, he'd find someone else to help him, and then what?

That would be ten times worse. If someone else helped him-if someone else sifted through the letters and figured out the truth-then he'd discover that the person he's trying to find is . . . her.

My mom encouraged me to follow in her footsteps and become an attorney. I wasted three years of higher learning pursuing that goal until I finally realized I wasn't trying to become a lawyer at all. I was trying to gain my mother's approval.

Chapter Two

Tucker pulled his eyes from Sabrina's, and it wasn't easy. He'd never seen her hair all flowy around her shoulders. He made himself watch a tour van pass slowly, stop for a bicyclist, then continue toward the First Congregational Church.

He pulled his arm from the splintered bench back and clasped his hands between his knees.

"If she doesn't want to be found," Sabrina's voice quivered. "Maybe she has a good reason. Maybe you'll only be hurt or disappointed if you find her."

He wanted to look at her, he wanted to grasp her shoulders between his hands and tell her that could never be true. Tone it down, buddy. You're going to scare her away.

He sucked in a deep breath, letting the salty air permeate his lungs before he released it on a steady exhale. He wished he could jump inside her head and know what she was thinking. Was she thinking about telling him the truth right now? Was she wishing she'd never started the email relationship to begin with? She clutched her bag to her body like a shield, and he could almost feel the waves of fear rolling off her.

He had to back her into a corner, but the thought of it was killing him. Maybe he should forget it. Maybe he should drop the whole thing. The whole relationship felt so precarious. As if one little breeze would send it crashing to the ground.

Then he remembered his daily trip to the café, sitting at his table, pretending to read the paper, pretending they were strangers. How long could he continue with the charade? And the hours sitting at the computer, reading her letters, wishing for more . . .

No, he'd made his decision and he was going through with it.

He leaned back against the bench. "I'm going to find her, regardless of any disappointment or hurt it might bring. I can't go on like this. I think you're the best person for the job, but if you're not interested-I'll find someone else."

There. He'd done it. He could feel the realization sinking into Sabrina. The realization that if she didn't help him, someone else would. It was a cheap trick, but for his plan to work, she had to say yes.

Maybe she'd just admit who she was right now. Come on, Sabrina, say it.

"You seem determined." Her words wobbled pitifully.

I am such a jerk.

But it was for her own good. She was so beautiful, inside and out. He'd never known anyone so unaware of it. It was as if she still saw herself as the girl with acne and a gapped smile. The braces had fixed the external, but the inside was permanently damaged. She wore an invisible shield that let no one through. Only in her letters was she transparent. Only when she was hiding behind a computer. If only he could get that to translate over to real life. And he would. If only he could accomplish Step One.

"I'm going to find her. It's not a matter of if, only when."

"Have you looked through the emails yourself? Surely if she'd left clues, you would've seen them."

"I'm not much of a between-the-lines person. I'm not even a computer person, except this one email relationship. I use the thing for my business, but I'd never even sent an email before I started writing her."

"What's her name?"

As if you don't know. "She goes by Sweetpea."

"You don't know her name?"

He nearly said he had her photo, but it wasn't hers, was it? Instead he met her almond shaped eyes and spent a couple seconds just floating there in the sea of chocolate. "I know I care about her. I know she's special. And I know I'm going to find her." You want to be found, don't you Sabrina? Deep down? What are you afraid of?

She looked so rigid, her chin set, her mouth drawn into a flat line. But behind that tough mask there was tender flesh, a warm heart, a vulnerable soul. If only she would agree, he could set his plan in motion. Maybe if she spent time with him, he could gain her trust.

But she trusts Harbormaster and she still doesn't want to meet him, doesn't want the relationship to progress. He'd been through this a million times.

He set his cap back on his head, feeling suddenly weary. Had he thought it was going to be easy? "You can mull it over if you like. I want to find someone by the end of the week, though, so if you could let me know if I need to look elsewhere-"

"No, I'll do it." Her chin tilted up, a stubborn triangular block of steel. She knew she'd been trapped.

His stomach did a funny flop at the thought of having her in his home where he'd spent hours writing her, reading her letters, thinking about her. It was just a matter of time now. Surely, once they had time alone together, he could penetrate that wall she kept around her heart. Surely he could get her to admit who she was when he had all the right tools in place.

"I can start in two weeks when I finish Renny's manuscript."

There was one more matter to discuss, but he felt a smile breaking out on his face and couldn't stop it. "That would be fine. You hours would be flexible, but evenings are best for me, if that works for you."

"Evenings . . ." Confusion etched lines across her forehead. "Aren't you going to print off the letters for me?"

He was glad he'd thought this through. "I wouldn't feel right about that. I feel bad enough letting someone else read her personal thoughts much less have printed copies floating around."

"I'd be exceedingly vigilant-"

"I know you would. I just don't feel right about it. I hope you understand."

She didn't understand at all, but that didn't matter so long as she agreed. He could see her wavering. He drove the last nail home. "If you'd rather I find someone else . . ."

"No. That won't be a problem." She scooted to the edge of the bench and stood, hanging her bag on her shoulder.

He stood with her. "Great then. Two weeks." He extended a hand and she returned his firm handshake before walking away. "But I'll see you at the café before that," he called to her stiffened back.

He watched her go, her long legs swallowing the distance. Operation: Sweetpea was underway and the future suddenly looked brighter than the sunlight glinting off Nantucket Harbor at noon. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1.Sabrina hides behind the façade of the Ice Princess because of past suffering. What are some of the events that cause her to withdraw from relationships?
2. Sabrina was unattractive as a child, and while she grew out of it, she still viewed herself as homely. What baggage from your childhood do you hang on to even though it’s not necessarily true?
3. What are some of the characteristics and actions of Tucker that reflect Christ?

Weblinks

»	Publisher's Book Info
»	Author Denise Hunter's web site

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