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An Unlikely Father. Cynthia ThomasonЧитать онлайн книгу.

An Unlikely Father - Cynthia  Thomason


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the total ragtag package that was Helen Sweeney. “And then look at me.”

      Giving Helen an exasperated look, Claire said, “No problem. I can have you looking so adorable that Ethan—”

      “Stop right there,” Helen said, tamping her natural curiosity to hear the rest of Claire’s sentence. “I already told you. I’m not going the adorable route. I couldn’t if I wanted to. This is business.”

      Claire sat back and studied her friend. “Okay, but I’ve got to ask, honey. If you’re not interested in romance, then what do you want from Ethan?”

      Helen took a deep breath. She’d known Claire would ask this question, especially since hearing that Jack had vowed to keep Ethan safe. Besides that, as mayor of Heron Point, Claire would be concerned for the welfare of the man who could raise the tax base so the town council could purchase another ambulance, a fire truck, make repairs to the roads and better secure the shoreline. But Helen wasn’t about to whine to Claire about her problems. Because of Donny, Helen had reconfirmed her previous belief that most men were louses, and she was often too stupid to avoid them. Now, because of her current unplanned circumstances, it was time to start thinking of Helen Sweeney. She needed to safeguard her own future, and the future of the Lima Bean if she decided to keep it snuggled in her belly.

      “I want a mutually beneficial relationship with him,” she said. “I want him to notice me as a serious businesswoman in this town because I intend to approach him about a financial proposition.”

      “A business arrangement?”

      “Here it is in a nutshell, Claire. I want the charter business Ethan could throw my way once the resort is reopened. And I figure he’s more likely to be agreeable to a business arrangement if he finds me a little more pleasing to his eyes. If you’ve taught me anything, Claire, it’s that a woman who has mastered the traits of…” Helen could hardly say the words since they were so alien to her vocabulary, her way of living. “…of grace, confidence, attractiveness, can accomplish a lot more than one who just bullies her way through life because she knows how to run her mouth. I haven’t cared much about any of that until now. But now it’s important.”

      “Why now?”

      If you only knew. If I could only tell you, but I can’t, because I don’t know how this story is going to end. “You know the charter business just keeps my head above water,” she said. “Finn and I aren’t getting anywhere. But Ethan and Anderson Enterprises have brought opportunity to Heron Point. Other business owners in town know that and plan to take advantage of it. Why shouldn’t I?”

      It was very simple, really. Other women used their wiles to get what they wanted, why not Helen Sweeney? But first she had to find those feminine traits that must be hiding somewhere underneath her coarse exterior. All Helen needed was more business and more money, which would lead to a way out of this horrible moral dilemma she’d found herself in.

      Men had tromped on her all her life, and she had the emotional bruises to prove it. Now she had the chance to maybe come out the winner in a relationship. And who would get hurt, anyway? Not Helen, who, for the sake of the Bean, was determined to keep her emotions under control for once and regard Ethan Anderson only as a means to an end. Even if she learned a few tricks from Claire, and managed to grab Ethan’s attention for a while, when the resort was up and running and his work here was done, he would simply dust off his Dockers, get on with his life and forget Helen Sweeney ever existed.

      Helen would just have to ignore the fact that Ethan was so darned good-looking, and so, for lack of a better word, nice. She could really fall for a guy who was so unlike any of the men she’d dated in the past. But talk about a worthless fantasy! Helen could never interest Ethan for the long haul. He was a Manhattan penthouse and she was a cottage by the Gulf. He was a Montblanc pen and she was a fishing rod.

      So she’d forget his obvious attributes and approach him on a purely rational level. And she’d have what she needed, for once, a way to support her family thanks to a few extra fishermen willing to pay three hundred bucks for a trip into the Gulf. And he’d still have what he’d always had—houses and cars and an enviable New York lifestyle.

      Claire’s voice brought her back from where her wishful thinking had taken her. “So, that’s what this is all about? You want Ethan to take you seriously as a businesswoman and send you customers?”

      “That’s it. I just need an image improvement course to make it happen.”

      “Okay. I don’t have any doubt that we can make Ethan notice you,” Claire said. “Let’s do it.” She stood up and headed to the back room. “It might be fun. Who knows what will come of this?”

      As soon as Claire disappeared into the back, the shop door opened. Jack came in, followed by Ethan. And Helen groaned. After all her elaborate scheming here she was, face-to-face with the man again, and she was still plain old Helen, a woman with a serious problem and only one hope of solving it.

      Jane ran up to the man who would soon be her stepfather. “Are we still going for pizza, Jack?”

      “As long as you’re still picking up the tab, kiddo,” he teased. He looked at Helen. “Why don’t you come with us?”

      “Oh, I don’t know…”

      “Of course she will,” Claire said, entering from the back room. “You’ll come too, won’t you, Ethan?”

      Helen stared at him, tried to decipher the unreadable look on his face. Her confidence plunged. How was she going to make herself interesting to this man if he couldn’t even stand to sit across from her in a pizza joint?

      Just when she was certain that half a piece of chocolate cake was all she would ever get from Ethan Anderson, he hitched one shoulder and said, “Sure, why not?”

      It wasn’t a rousing victory, but it was better than nothing.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      PETULA DEERING’S SEVEN-YEAR-OLD compact car rolled to a stop in front of the weathered cedar cottage at the edge of the Gulf. Pet got out and headed to the front door. “Three times a week,” she mumbled. “For the past six years I’ve parked in the same spot and walked up this sidewalk at least three times a week.” She stared at the old cement slabs under her shoes. “Even the cracks are the same. They’ve gone unpatched for six years.”

      Pet had moved to Heron Point to get away from routine. All her life, she avoided the ruts that trapped so many people while life passed them by. She’d even changed husbands three times, burying the last one and sending the first two packing. Yet here she was, crazy about a man who kept her tied to an emotional string, never moving forward, yet never letting go.

      But in the last few weeks she’d sensed change in the air in Heron Point, and she’d begun to long for the old excitement in her own life. People in town were enthusiastic again, hopeful, and Pet was feeling it, too. Unfortunately, her biggest challenge was to get Finn Sweeney to accept that change was good, because it was way past time he admitted that he should change his twenty-five-year bachelor status and ask her to marry him. That’s all she wanted, really—a firm commitment from the man she adored—and she would have all the excitement she needed.

      As she approached the entrance to the cottage, Andy stood up from his spot in front of the fireplace and ambled to the screen door. He emitted a low-pitched whine of welcome when she came inside and swished his great golden tail in anticipation of her attention. While she patted his head, it occurred to her that too often there was more life in this arthritic old dog than there was in Finn. Well, maybe she could do something about that.

      Finn wheeled his chair around from in front of the television and smiled. “Hello, beautiful.”

      He always called her by some form of endearment, and she loved that about him. She was fifty-nine years old and certainly no longer beautiful if she ever had been. But she was interesting looking. She kept her platinum hair long and tied with ribbons and leather and fancy clips. She wore ankle-length, flowing garments that masked


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