Moonshell Beach: A Shelter Bay Novel by Joann Ross Page A

played by the Celtic musicians Sax Douchett had hired for the occasion, drifted out an open window.
    “Yeah. I guess it is.” He sounded surprised.
    “Ah, and wouldn’t you be taking such natural beauty for granted?” she teased gently. “As we Irish often admittedly do.”
    The sun had set and a cool breeze was blowing in off the water that had her wishing Leon had chosen something warmer for the reception than this short, shoulder-baring midnight blue dress. If she’d given the matter any thought, she’d have realized that her clothes were entirely wrong for both the weather and this small coastal town. Though she had seen a flash of something that looked like lustin J.T.’s eyes when she’d opened the door to the suite earlier. It had come and gone so quickly, if she hadn’t been drinking in the sight of him, she might have missed it.
    She’d noticed a boutique on the drive to the inn. She’d have to make time tomorrow to drop in for some quick power shopping.
    The cell phone she’d forgotten to turn off played Celtic Woman’s “Beyond the Sea” from her satin evening bag. She took it out, looked at the caller ID screen, then closed it.
    “If you want privacy,” J.T. began to say.
    “Oh, no.” She put the phone back in her bag. “It’s merely business. And none I’d be wanting to deal with at the moment.”
    Or ever, for that matter. Tammi Newsome, the executive assistant to Aaron Pressler, the head of the studio that had spent a great deal of money to release her movies, was relentless in her zeal to climb her way up the ladder into a VP’s office. Whereas Mary had no interest in Hollywood politics, and there was no way she was going to make the changes Pressler was suggesting to “beef up” what he kept insisting on referring to as her selkie
franchise
.
    “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your family?” she asked before he could question her about the call. The mayor, who’d been dragging her around from person to person for the past hour, hadn’t yet made it over to the Douchett table at the far side of the room.
    “Why?” He shrugged off his suit jacket, and put it over her shoulders, revealing that he’d caught the faint shiver she’d tried to hide.
    She’d watched him watching everyone else, evenas he continued to keep her in his vision during the reception, and suspected very little got past him.
    Again, that was much like Michael had been. When her brother had first returned to Castlelough, after the injury that had nearly claimed his life, he’d played hermit on his farm, never going into the village to talk with people he’d known all his life. Many of whom were like family.
    “Thank you.” She pulled the edges of the suit jacket, which held his body heat, closer together. “Because I’d like to meet them. And, although I don’t want to sound conceited, since you obviously have your own ideas about my celebrity, I suspect that one of the reasons they’ve come here tonight is to meet me.” She did not share her belief with him that they were also here to keep an eye on the youngest Douchett son.
    “You’d undoubtedly make their night. Hell, week. Month. Year. But,” he said, confirming her belief, “I suspect another reason they’ve shown up in force is to make sure I don’t make more of an ass of myself than I already have.”
    Rather than the annoyance she might have expected to hear in his tone, Mary heard resignation.
    “You’re overstating it.” When he shot her a skeptical look, she said, “You weren’t all that hospitable, true. And even, I suppose, a tad rude, which makes sense, since I’m sure there are other things you’d rather be doing. But you were a long ways from being an ass, J. T. Douchett.
    “As for your family, if they do have concerns, it would not be because they’re afraid you’ll offend me as much as the fact that they care about you.”
    She put a hand on his arm and felt the muscletense beneath the starched shirtsleeve. A