Twelfth Sun
Page 23
“That I could find an apartment in Baltimore. Give us time together until you’re ready.”
Was she crazy? Ready for what? But she already knew the answer. “You’d do that?”
He thumbed her bottom lip down and kissed her, his smile blooming against her mouth. “I can work from anywhere. My career is mobile. I’ve got two weeks on the research ship, then another eight before I head off again. By then, maybe I can convince you to join me.”
She bit her lip. She could be mobile too…to a degree. Was it possible to meet someone and fall happily-ever-after in love in so short a time? Her mother would think she was insane. Her uncle and friends would believe her delusional. If town criers still existed, hers would proclaim the lunacy from every rooftop and street corner available.
But none of it mattered. In her heart, she knew the feelings she shared with Elijah would endure long after the naysayers had been silenced.
She buried her face against his chest, inhaling his scent and the promise of their future together. “I would love for you to come to Baltimore.”
Epilogue
“So it was a storm that ultimately sank the Twelfth Sun?” Harvey Stafford asked as he sliced into the thick steak on his plate. Clear red liquid oozed from the meaty slab and was quickly absorbed by a mound of au gratin potatoes. Sometimes Reagan had a hard time equating the casual, uncomplicated Harvey with persnickety Felix Pellar. No one would ever convince her he wasn’t a consummate actor. Along with Monica, Livy and Alan, he preferred theater over the large and small screens, and had been enjoying a successful year since their adventure at Sothern’s mansion concluded.
A lot had changed in the intervening twelve months, including the addition of a wedding ring on her finger, a new last name, and a change of address. She and Elijah had bought a comfortable two-story home located on the Chesapeake, not far from Baltimore. He still jaunted off now and then on a research gig, or rounds on the lecture circuit, but it made their reunions sweeter when she didn’t tag along. Many times she did, assuming Winning Concepts could spare her. She’d had to hire several employees and a PR person after business had exploded when it became known the trend-setting and ultra-reclusive Gerald St. Croix had hired her to refit a US beach property he’d purchased as an investment. Rumor said he’d bought it from billionaire Eric Sothern, and currently allowed his representative, Brody Simpson, along with Simpson’s wife Eden, to reside there as part of Brody’s salary.
Hmm. She definitely wouldn’t want to go up against Brody in a game of poker.
“She got caught in a nor’easter,” Elijah explained to Harvey and the others. It had been a year since she’d turned Jeremiah Rook’s journal over to her uncle and parted company with the rest. She, Elijah, Brody, and Eden had maintained close contact and frequently visited back and forth, but she hadn’t seen the others since last summer. Her wedding had been small, taking place on Brody’s yacht, the ceremony performed by the ship’s captain. It had been her idea to be married at sea given Elijah’s love of the ocean and since the Twelfth Sun had been responsible for bringing them together. He’d balked, expecting her to want a big wedding, but admitted he loved the idea. For all his comfort behind the podium in a lecture hall, her husband was still uneasy at social gatherings, especially those ranking on a large scale.
Her mother, stepfather, uncle and a few close friends had attended, along with Brody, Eden and several of Elijah’s friends and colleagues. Afterward, they’d jetted to a South Pacific island, courtesy of Brody, and spent two weeks enjoying the surf, sand and leisurely days and nights of lovemaking. Thinking about that time with Elijah made her want to curl up in his arms again.
The minute they were alone, she intended to see he had a proper introduction to her racy thoughts–right after she dragged him up to the rooftop pool. The group had agreed to return to Sothern’s estate–now Brody’s–every year to reconnect and catch up with one another. For her, part of that included reminding Elijah of the first place they’d made love. It was warm tonight and the sky was clear. The pool would be glorious.
“She floundered on the New England coast but couldn’t make landfall,” Elijah continued, explaining the fate of the Twelfth Sun to the group gathered at the dinner table. They’d chosen the circular dining room for old time’s sake, but the meal and conversation were far from stuffy. She watched as he elaborated on the details, gesturing with one hand as he talked, his dinner forgotten. “From the wreckage, we already knew she struck the remains of a frigate off Horsehead Island, but it was the nor’easter that sent her off course.”
She loved to see him like this, impassioned about his topic, a teacher sharing knowledge. His delivery kept his audience raptly focused, but she fixated on him and the way his long curls brushed his collar, his blue eyes fired with excitement. Watching him ignited a slow stirring in her belly.
“The true find in the journal was Rook writing about Samuel Storm.” Elijah paused long enough to quaff down a gulp of water. By the time he actually got around to eating, his steak would be cold. Sometimes it seemed he operated solely on adrenalin and research. “Apparently, the captain had been courting Rook’s daughter without his knowledge, and asked for her hand during the voyage.”
“How did that go over?” Judith–whom Reagan still thought of as Monica–asked.
Elijah grinned. “If the nor’easter hadn’t intervened, I think Rook would have brought down a storm of his own. As it stood, he needed Samuel to save the ship.”
“Too bad it wasn’t doable,” Harvey said. Another chunk of steak disappeared into his mouth, and he chewed thoughtfully. “What about that weasel Tarvick? Anyone know what became of him?”
“Prison for now,” Brody supplied. “When he does make it out, he’s going to have the Mob to worry about. He owes interest with blood.”
Reagan shuddered. Tarvick was a despicable man, but she didn’t want to think about him at the mercy of hired killers. She’d much rather entice her young husband up to the rooftop pool and entertain him on topics that had nothing to do with shipwrecks or old journals.
The conversation continued to swirl, gaining momentum as it pinged back and forth between Jeremiah Rook, the Twelfth Sun, Tarvick, and last year’s treasure hunt. Elijah talked comfortably with the group, as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. When Brody asked about his latest research dive, she knew it was time to take matters into her own hands.
Literally.
Reaching beneath the table, she slid her fingers up Elijah’s thigh and boldly squeezed the sensitive region between his legs.
“I wa–” He gulped off what he’d been saying in mid word.
Brody raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, Doc?”
“Uh…I mean…”
She took a demur sip from her water glass, all the while rubbing him provocatively. When he grew tongue-tied and nearly knocked over his plate, she knew he’d gotten the message.
“Excuse me.” He pushed back from the table. “I, um…I think I left something upstairs.” He couldn’t move fast enough getting out the door.
Harvey exchanged a puzzled glance with Brody. “What was that about?”
“Research.” Reagan inserted before the other man could answer. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, before edging it neatly beneath her plate. “Ideas strike him at the oddest time. I better go see what it’s about.”
Brody grinned into his wine glass. “Yeah. Do that.”
Damned if he didn’t know exactly what it was about, but she didn’t care. She was a newlywed and therefore entitled to indulge in spur-of-the-moment lovemaking. Especially when her husband was gorgeous, sexy, and insanely brilliant. She was barely through the doorway of the dining room when Elijah caught her wrist and spun her around, shoving her back to the wall. Before she could utter a thought, his mouth descended on hers, the shock of his kiss stealing her breath. A streak of lightning shot from her head to her toes and she moaned against his mouth.
“Turnaround is fair play,” he murmured, slipping his hand beneath he
r sundress and bunching it high on her thigh. His fingers slid beneath the lacy edge of her panties, boldly exploring. The man knew exactly where and how to touch her.
“I was trying to entice you to the pool,” she gasped.
“You enticed, alright.” Another kiss, longer this time but softer. His fingers fell away, leaving her quivering. Raising his hand, he cupped her face and drew back to gaze into her eyes. “The rooftop pool?”
She nodded. “You remember…when we first…” Suddenly bashful, she dropped her eyes.
He grinned. “I remember, but I’d much rather you show me.” Grasping her hand, he pulled her in the direction of the steps.
Reagan knew they wouldn’t see the others until morning and guessed the others knew it too. Life had a way of defining and establishing priorities. She was glad hers had included taking a chance on a treasure hunt spun around the search for an obscure journal.
Histories like that of the Twelfth Sun might come and go, but true love outlasted eternity. She didn’t need the Southern Cross or a star constellation to tell her that.
Her home, like her heart, would always be with Elijah.
Mae Clair
Mae Clair opened a Pandora’s Box of characters when she was a child and never looked back. Her father encouraged her to create make-believe worlds by spinning tales of far-off places on summer nights beneath the stars. She fell in love with the night-time sky, snagged the tail of a comet, and hitched a ride.
Mae loves creating character-driven fiction in settings that vary from contemporary to mythical. Wherever her pen takes her, she flavors her stories with conflict, romance and mystery. Married to her high school sweetheart, she lives in Pennsylvania, is passionate about writing, old photographs, a good Maine lobster tail and cats.
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2013 Mae Clair
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: August 2013
ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-474-8