Table of Contents
Tempted by Adam
Copyright
Praise for May Williams
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
A word about the author...
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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Tempted by Adam
by
May Williams
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Tempted by Adam
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by May Williams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Vintage Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-880-6
Published in the United States of America
Praise for May Williams
“The author's use of WW II background is intriguing. Her descriptions of the setting are worked into the narrative in a way which adds to the overall romantic atmosphere.”
~Romancing the Book
~*~
“May Williams does it again! The perfect romance in a great setting. So hard to find great romances written during this era, but May has a knack for it. Keep them coming!”
~Mary G. Woolf
~*~
“I fell in love with the setting and characters.”
~Romance42
Dedication
To my parents,
who taught me young that there was nothing better
than getting in the car and going.
Thanks for the years of wanderlust.
They've led me to some delightful locations.
I'd also like to thank my critique partner, Amie Denman,
and my editor, Nan Swanson,
for their advice and assistance.
Chapter One
The breeze stiffened over Chesapeake Bay as the ferry moved away from the southern dock. A rolling breaker buffeted the steel hull, sending a spray of water onto the deck. Most of the passengers were tucked in the ferry’s cabin, but Adam preferred the wind in his face and the smell of the water.
After eighteen hours in the stuffy atmosphere of a train, he craved the freedom of the open deck. Resting his arms on the rail, he focused on the tiny speck of land ahead. The ferry wouldn’t bump the dock at Cape Charles for nearly an hour, but it didn’t matter. He was home.
To settle here on the Chesapeake after three years in the Coast Guard during World War II hadn’t been an impulsive decision. Living here combined everything he wanted. The water, family nearby, and opportunity. He could have gone home to Pennsylvania where his parents lived, and worked with his Dad, but he couldn’t breathe there. The memories of his brother, and his parents’ palpable grief, sucked away the oxygen.
He took in a deep breath of the cool air to remind himself this was the place he needed to be. Here on the edge of the continent, between Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic, where the salt water met the fresh. He might as well have salt water in his veins. His attraction—hell, fascination—with the water never changed.
When he scanned where the steely water met the blue sky, he no longer looked for the telltale signs of German submarines. Two tours on the deck of a cutter had engrained that habit so deeply it had taken him nearly a year to break it.
The ferry pitched downward into the valley of a wave, but after years of being on deck, Adam adjusted his stance, never losing his balance or his focus on the town ahead, where his future waited.
A feminine shriek split the air behind him. Whirling, he scanned the deck.
A petite woman in a floppy tan hat braced herself against the hood of a late ’30s Packard. Despite her effort, the car crept forward with every movement of the ferry. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam spotted a rogue wave bearing down on the boat. The already moving car would accelerate into motion when the wave hit, crushing the woman between the vehicle and the raised iron gangplank.
Without conscious thought, Adam sprinted across the deck and wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, pulled her off her feet, and shoved her against the ferry’s side wall out of the way of the careening car. Shielding her with his body for a second longer, he waited for the crash of metal on metal.
“Got it!” Ned yelled over the wind. His cousin flung the car door open and dove in to stop the Packard. “I saw it go but couldn’t get here faster.” Ned got out and slammed the door. “Hafta remember to set the parking brake, Shelby.”
Shelby. Shelby Stanton. His breathing, surprisingly calm considering what had just happened, caught in his throat, and he gulped for air. Thoughts of this woman always hovered on the edge of his mind, and the image of her crushed against the gangplank made his limbs turn to cement. She squirmed in his arms, silently demanding he release her. When he should have been letting her go, he tightened his grip, spinning her to face him.
Her hazel eyes met his for a second. “Oh, it’s you,” she said in a voice so soft the wind nearly carried it away. Then she re-doubled her efforts to escape his hold, finally freeing herself with little help from him.
“Thank you, Ned.” She pushed Adam’s arms away where they still tried to protect her. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“No problem. Hey, Adam, glad you’re back. Means I can get a day off to spend with my bride.” Ned gave him a wink before walking aft.
“I’ve ridden this ferry a thousand times.” Shelby’s words came out in a rush as she took another step away from him.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” He wanted to run his hands over her to check for injuries, but she put more distance between them.
“No. Thanks to you, I’m in one piece.” An ash-blonde curl streamed across her face. The quick movement of her hand to tuck her hair away drew his eye to her pale cheek. He wanted to stroke his finger down that velvety surface, like he had when they were last face to face.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Although her smile and eyes were usually tinged with sadness, it was a little more intense today. The tracks of dried tears showed on her face despite a careful application of powder.
“Fine.” She pulled her hat down tightly around her ears. “Thank you.”
“Sure, just don’t get in front of a rolling car again. It’s an easy way to end up dead.” Adam wanted to sever his own tongue when her eyes flashed briefly.
She turned away, murmuring, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Referencing a tragic death was one hell of a conversation starter with a war widow. He couldn’t make more of an ass of himself if he tried. He was practically an expert at asshole behavior in her presence. The last time they’d met was at his cousin’s wedding a few weeks ago, where he’d suffered a temporary moment of insanity and kissed her. An impulse he should have controlled but didn’t. No chance, when her supple body swayed in his arms as they danced and her lips parted slightly in what he took as i
nvitation.
“I guess you’re not working today.” She addressed him, but her eyes followed the flight of a seagull.
“No, just headed home, like you.” Casual conversation. He could do this. “I’ve been to Pensacola to visit a buddy of mine.”
“Someone from the Coast Guard?” Nearly everyone’s service in the war was common knowledge, but he was pleased she remembered his.
“Yeah, he and his wife just had their first baby. A boy.”
“You went hundreds of miles to visit a baby?” The surprise on her face, when her eyes met his, temporarily erased the sadness lurking there.
“The little squirt’s named for me, and I’m his godfather, so I had to visit.” He wasn’t planning to admit to anyone how much he’d enjoyed holding Ellen and Troy’s baby, even when the tyke was screaming.
“Congratulations.” Was her tone ironic or sincere? Since she’d returned her gaze to the gull, he couldn’t judge by her face.
“Thanks. Probably the closest I’ll ever come to fatherhood. It was fun for a few days, but I’m glad to be home.” A ship loaded with railcars passed them, causing the ferry to roll in its wake. Automatically, he reached out a hand to steady her, but she shook off his help.
“I’m okay now, thanks.”
“Sure. Did you have a good day in Virginia Beach?”
She gave him a small smile that might as well have been a grimace for all the joy it held. “I was visiting my husband’s parents.”
Dead husband’s parents. Adam had only heard the rumors about her husband. He was from a moderately wealthy family, a good man from all accounts, career Navy, and dead early in the war. Torpedoes don’t care if you’re decent. He’d learned that lesson repeatedly as he watched friends and shipmates die. “Do you do that often?”
“Every few months. They’re nice people, and they’ve been good to me,” she explained.
“Still not easy.”
“No.” Her shoulders formed a tight line under her light coat, as though she were steeling herself against any further conversation.
“How about a Coke?” he suggested, as much for something to say as to reassure her that he’d let the subject drop. “We’ve still got time to drink it before we dock.”
“That’d be nice.”
****
Adam Gable moved easily across the deck despite the steady beat of waves hitting the side. His long legs absorbed the ferry’s movement. With his broad shoulders, he had the look of a man who could maneuver through nearly anything. But he wasn’t her type. Whatever her type was. Leo must have been her type, but after four years of widowhood, it was difficult to remember.
Four years ago today she’d received the news of his death, the day after their first wedding anniversary. Not that she counted that as a year of marriage, since he was gone for all of it but two months. In her heart, she’d been a widow for five years. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She couldn’t cry on the ferry, not after shedding too many tears with Leo’s mother already today.
She opened her eyes as the gull, who was keeping pace with the ferry, swooped low over her. Most of the time she was like that bird—alone and okay with it. Today, it was all just a little too raw, too close to the surface. Adding Adam to the mix didn’t help. He was no one she could or should get involved with, but after the kiss at Maggie and Ned’s wedding reception, she remembered what it was like to desire someone. But that someone couldn’t be Adam.
With his dark hair and eyes, he was handsome enough, but he was also the kind of man who figured life’s problems were solved by a Coca-Cola and a smile. Still, they had mutual friends, so she could be nice until she moved on from Cape Charles to see if life offered something more elsewhere.
“Here you go.” Adam handed her the glass bottle, dripping with condensation this warm September day.
“Thanks.” A straw peeked out the bottle’s top. “And thanks for remembering a straw. I think my mouth’s the wrong shape for drinking from a bottle.”
“I’d say your mouth is perfect.” His eyes lingered on her lips for a second before he tipped his drink up and took a long swallow. Her delicate sip did little to cool the heat in her cheeks. Thank heavens for her floppy hat that drooped low over her face and the breeze that might make her look wind-burned instead of blushing like a sixteen-year-old.
She cleared her throat after a moment. “I haven’t seen you around much since Ned and Maggie’s wedding. You couldn’t have been in Florida the whole time.” She groped for a topic, realizing too late that the last thing she wanted to admit was that she’d looked for him.
“I worked extra hours to make up for the time I’d be off this week. And I’ve been busy doing the finish work on my boat.” He leaned against the rail with his bottle resting lightly on it. “The mechanical work is done. Now I’m down to varnishing, and some minor stuff.” He talked like she already knew of his boat, but she’d never heard even a whisper about it.
“You’re building a boat?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, a slightly sheepish grin passed over his face. “I thought you’d know, since you and Maggie are such good friends.”
“Is it a secret?”
“Not really. I’m just keeping it sort of low key after my first failed attempt.”
“You failed?” He struck her as the sort of man who never failed, or if he did, he didn’t admit it.
“Catastrophically.” He held up his bottle in a mock salute. “She took on water and nearly sank like a stone. Fortunately, Ned insisted on shadowing me with his boat, so he towed me ashore, but I was in water up to my ankles by the time we got back to my boathouse. I learned several lessons and salvaged what I could.”
“What was the problem with the boat?”
“Everything.” He laughed. “I was a carpenter before the war, working for my dad. We did custom interiors, furniture, that kind of thing. I thought I understood how boats go together. I sometimes have a problem with being overconfident.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” She hid her smile behind her bottle.
“It’s okay. You can laugh at me. I was pretty mad at the time, but I learn from my mistakes. I took it slower with this boat, talked to the old-timers, read up on boat design, toured a place in Norfolk that manufactures boats. And I think I’ve got it right.”
“Think?” Although he was definitely not her type, she hated to see him at the bottom of the bay. “Isn’t that taking a chance?”
“That’s where the overconfidence helps me out. I’m still working through a few kinks, but nothing that’s going to alter the design. This one will float and should slice through the waves like a hot knife through butter.”
“So you’ll have a fast boat that doesn’t take on water. What will you do with it then?”
“Open my own company,” he said matter-of-factly, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it.
“I had no idea you had such am...” She stopped herself from completing the sentence.
“Ambition? I love working on the ferry, but it’s not something I want to do the rest of my life. I can see myself building boats, but I need this prototype to be perfect so I can get started. I’m taking it to the Atlantic City Boat Show to see if anyone’s interested.”
“More risky behavior?”
“I’m a gambler at heart.”
“And at the poker table, I hear. When’s the boat show?”
“Second weekend in October.”
“Only a month away. I’m surprised you took the time to go to Florida.”
“Couldn’t miss my godson’s baptism, and I got some free advice. My buddy, Troy, knows about everything there is to know about boats. He’s been a commercial fisherman most of his life, except for the stint in the Coast Guard.”
“I’d like to see your boat,” she said out of curiosity and a little bit of flirtation. She’d learned more about him in the past few minutes than in a year of casual meetings. If she wasn’t careful, she’d s
tart to think there was some substance behind his handsome exterior.
“The maiden voyage is next week, but I won’t risk taking you on that. I’m not that confident.”
“I’m not scared of wet shoes, and I can swim.” Why was she pursuing this? The nervous look on his face did amuse her, but she'd spent a lot of time lately avoiding him, which was probably why she was so conscious of his whereabouts and his absence in the past weeks.
“How about in a couple weeks, when I’m sure she won’t sink?”
“So much for confidence,” she teased.
“Learning to control that. It’s gotten me out of some tight jams and into a lot of trouble over the years.”
“I’ll take that ride on your boat once you’re sure it’s seaworthy. But could I at least see it before then?”
“Okay.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t happen to have any secret knowledge of boats, do you?”
“No, just curiosity.” Why, she had no idea. She liked boats and the water, but if she didn’t shut up soon, he’d think she was interested in him. Which she wasn’t. Mostly.
“Almost back.” He nodded toward Cape Charles, lit with golden light at this time of day. The Victorian houses ranged along a wide stretch of beach where children still played in the water. The actual downtown ran perpendicular to the beach, along an inlet shared by the railroad car and passenger ferries that gave the town its livelihood. Her employer’s building was on the end closest to the beach, and she could just make out the Cape Charles Gazette sign on the front.
“Why is the ferry trip back always longer than the one out?” she asked, although the nearly hour-and-a-half ride seemed incredibly short today. Maybe that was the company, maybe it was the relief of escaping her in-laws.
“You, too? I always think that. Probably because I’m anxious to get home.”
“To work on your boat?”
“Yeah and just to be home.”
“But you’re not from Cape Charles originally.”
“It’s home now. I’ll never leave.”
She glanced at his face, but his gaze was trained on the harbor and town ahead. From his expression, he wasn’t jesting. Must be nice to have that feeling. For her, the desire to wander increased with every day she stayed in Cape Charles. Her residence there had been circumstantial. After the death of her husband, she wanted her family close by. Since her sister lived here, she’d decided it was as good a place as any. She’d taken a job as a reporter on local issues as something to do and found she had a real knack for writing.
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