finger, "they have me peeing in a bottle."
"They did not staple your bone, Grandfather, they inserted a pin."
"I'm bored out of my skull."
"Really? Your nurses tell me you spend half your day playing poker with the housekeeping staff. They can't get anything done."
Pappy stared at the ceiling and pursed his lips. "Maybe, but it beats being shanghaied onto one of Liza's committees."
"Captain Parrish wasn't shanghaied," Bryn said, scolding her grandfather with a wave of her hand. "He didn't even put up a fuss when I asked him to cochair it with me. Right, Captain?" She nibbled the corner from another piece of candy.
There she goes again, he thought, smiling so sweetly it made his teeth ache. Well, he'd be damned if he'd allow her smile to get to him, especially when she was shining it on Pappy. If she would stop nibbling chocolates with those pearly white teeth and give him more than a passing glance, she would know he was a changed man. A man dedicated to redefining stoicism; Bryn Madison was not going to rattle his chain again.
He waited.
And waited.
She kept her attention on Pappy, feeding him chocolates while bantering with him about pretty nurses and the perils of cheating at poker. Shifting in his chair, Rick shoved his fingers through his hair. Like an uncontrollable current, her laughter moved through him, tangling his serious mood with unasked-for pleasure. Each time she brushed back her hair, or dropped her chin on the backs of her fingers, or brought a piece of chocolate to her mouth, he felt a tug down low in his gut. Dammit, he hadn't come here to watch her lick caramel from her lips. "Pappy, has Bryn been filling you in on her changes at the Crab Shack?"
The old man's eyes brightened. "No, but I'm sure she's doing a bang-up job. She knows all about these things. She's got her own interior design business." He beamed at his granddaughter. "You redid that room of the real estate mogul in New York, didn't you, Brynnie? It was in a magazine."
"I did," she said. "Three times. Remember me telling you about how he and his wife kept changing their minds?" she said, laughing with the memory. "They finally settled on the English garden look because she said she wanted to feel comfortable serving tea cakes and cucumber sandwiches."
Terrific. She'd dealt with people from a different universe. He dropped his chin on his forearms. "This could be worse than I thought," he mumbled to himself.
"Excuse me?" she said, blinking with surprise.
"You know what I'm talking about, Bryn. The people who come to the Crab Shack aren't interested in tea cakes or cucumber sandwiches. And unless they can squirt them from plastic packets, French sauces are out too."
Pushing away from the bed rail, she straightened her back. "Well I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to understanding clientele."
Standing up, he spoke directly to Pappy. "Don't get me wrong. I'm sure whatever she did up North was successful there, but we are talking about Malabar Key. I think you're in danger of losing your shirt over this."
With his eyebrows raised, Pappy's gaze flicked from one visitor to the other.
"Don't listen to him, Grandfather," Bryn said, standing as she patted the old man's arm. "Everything's coming along beautifully."
"You haven't opened yet," Rick reminded her loudly.
Grabbing the bed rail, she leaned over Pappy and matched Rick's volume. "But when I do, the people of Malabar Key are going to love having a well-appointed restaurant."
Rick met her halfway across the bed. "That's your opinion, and unfortunately for Pappy, it happens to be wrong."
"May I remind you that my opinion," she asked, pressing her fingers between her breasts, "happens to be valued by some people?"
"And may I remind you, again, that Pappy hasn't seen the changes yet?"
She was about to respond when the door swung open behind her. A nurse rushed in waving a blood pressure cuff.
"That's quite enough. We can hear you at the nurses' station." She pointed over