Soon.
He rose and rounded the desk, holding his hand out. Olivia stared at it for a second and then slipped her fingers through his.
“Let’s go get Agent Cowler, and then let’s get the hell out of here.”
Olivia tugged his hand. “Amen.”
***
Livvy’s eyes were locked on the rearview mirror. Jack was driving. His silence unnerved her, but she imagined he had a lot on his mind. Clearly he was going to be eager to drop her off and get on with his life. Their paths would have never crossed if he wasn’t searching for his uncle. A man like this wouldn’t hook up with a woman who spent more time with lobsters than humans.
No cars matched their pace. No one seemed to pay them much mind at all. Prying away from the mirror, she glanced over her shoulder into the back of the Jeep. The heavy trunk that had filled the compartment was now gone. Someone else’s problem.
“There’s no one back there,” Jack’s gentle voice startled her.
“Huh? Oh. No. I was just looking at the−”
A whiskered chin turned towards her. “It’s okay,” he soothed before his attention shifted towards the turn for her road.
Gull Harbor glistened in the waning sun with flashes of rubies and amethysts cascading across the inlet. Colorful boats bobbed in place as if they were napping.
She was just here yesterday morning, and yet it seemed like a thousand years ago. Studying the inlet, she found no suspicious skiffs−no cagey men dressed in black. She cast a surreal wave at Marlowe Ashton lugging a garbage bag out to the end of his driveway for the garbage truck that came through on Thursdays.
As Jack pulled into her circular driveway her eyes locked onto the charred tip of the lighthouse. That would be her goal. That would consume her concentration. No idle time to think. Focus on fixing that lighthouse. Tasks.
A bear of a man stomped down her porch steps. At the bottom he paused, holding a hand up to his brow to fend off the sun.
“Gulp,” she said aloud.
“I’ll talk to George,” Jack offered. “This is all my fault anyway. I just hope the guy doesn’t slug me.”
Livvy snorted. “Then we can sport matching shiners.”
That earned her the cameo of a grin. With the sun pouring through his window, Jack appeared mystical. Neptune−a sea god.
Whoa. I need some sleep.
A cloud passed overhead and the mysticism was gone, leaving only the silhouette of a weary man.
“I can handle him,” she muttered, cracking open the door.
Jack’s hand settled on her arm. She glanced up, surprised by the touch. Sapphire spikes toyed with the earnest slate eyes that engulfed her.
Knock. Knock.
George’s knuckles cracked against her window. Disregarding them, she was still arrested by Jack’s eyes.
“What?” she whispered.
“Livvy!” The voice echoed from outside.
“I’m not just leaving you here if that’s what you are thinking,” he proclaimed levelly. “Not until I’m completely satisfied that you’ll be alright−not until I’m completely satisfied that you are safe−that you are comfortable−I won’t leave until then.”
What if that’s not until the morning?
“Livvy!” Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Okay,” she flinched at the next knock. “But I’m not very comfortable right now.”
Slipping the door open, she nearly hit the burly man. Livvy climbed out of the Jeep and straight into a bear hug.
“Livvy! My God, there were men here. The Coast Guard Investigative Services.” Georgie enunciated each word as if reciting them from memory. “What the hell is going on?”
Grabbing her by the shoulders, George set her back and frowned at her. “That black eye isn’t from walking into a wall is it?”
Mumbling no, her eyes latched onto Jack’s tall frame as he rounded the front end of the Jeep.
“And he didn’t do it, did he?” George eyed him.
“No.” She cleared her throat.
On this late autumn day the sun had already dropped down behind the lighthouse. A pink glow filled the inlet but the driveway had fallen into heavy shadows.
“Let’s go inside. I really need some coffee.” Or something stronger.
Ensconced in the tiny bungalow, Livvy immediately felt at peace. Yes, someone had assaulted her in here−but they had failed. This was a haven. A safe zone. The ghosts of the Sea Lantern Cottage protected her. As she passed by the tiny living room, she smiled at them.
George paced a small circle in the narrow kitchen as she and Jack dropped into the seats at the table. To her relief her business partner and self-imposed legal guardian had put on a pot of coffee.
“There won’t be any coconut in this pot,” she whispered to Jack as George continued his litany about safety.
Jack flashed a grin and was about to respond when a mug painted with blue anchors was thrust in his face.
“And another thing,” George admonished, “why wouldn’t you tell me about the break-in?”
Sliding her fingers into her hair she used her hands to support her head. If she let go, it would drop onto the table.
In due time Livvy had soothed George’s concerns, aided by Jack’s confident support. George grudgingly began to trust the man. After an hour of intense conversation, George sensed that his audience was on the verge of falling asleep. With some reluctance he made his way to the front door and started down the front steps with Livvy at his side.
Jack joined them, searching the darkness, his concentration on the silver Altima parked down the road. Earlier he had investigated the car in person only to discover that it belonged to CGIS. A quick call to Agent Cowler authenticated the vehicle’s presence.
It eased her nerves somewhat. But it was hard to accept that the danger was over.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” George was saying. “You can sleep in. There’s no need for you to work tomorrow.”
“We’ve got two charters on Saturday,” she forced herself to focus. “I’ve got to stock inventory tomorrow and double-check the radar. It looks like it should be a smooth day.”
George’s black eyebrows knotted. “I can take the group out.”
“Georgie, last time you took a group out a customer complained that you scared a whale.”
His big hand slapped his chest. “I was leaning over, trying to pull up a lobster trap. I didn’t even see her. She must have had a calf nearby because she dove and surfaced five minutes later about a thousand feet away. And she never returned.” He held his hand up in avowal. “But I did not scare her.”
Livvy chuckled and patted his thick shoulder. “Thank Hannah for the feast she left in the refrigerator.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, concerned.
Those large walrus eyes were filled with angst and conflict.
Livvy glimpsed over her shoulder at the stoic sentinel standing at the top of her steps. George followed her glance.
“You should have told me he was from the Science Center,” he confided in a hushed tone. “That place is cool. Hannah and I took a tour there once.”
Livvy wondered which caused George’s sudden approval—the fact that Jack was from the Science Center, or that he had saved her life?
“Alright. Call me. For anything.” He dipped his head to search her eyes. “Do you hear?”
Livvy reached up and wound her arms around his neck. “Yes, Georgie. I love you, and stop worrying.”
If anything ever happened to her, George would feel he had let her family down, yet again. It was an absurd perception fueled by guilt. Maybe one day if Livvy was no longer on her own, George could get past that.
“Jack.” George stepped around her and extended his hand.
Jack climbed down the stairs and gripped it solidly.
“Thank you for looking out for her,” George said in a thick voice. “I mean that.”
“She’s a handful,” Jack mused and gave a
brusque nod. “She must keep you on your toes.”
The comment released some of the tension and George barked out a laugh. “That she is. And that she does.” He sobered and asked, “Do you need me for anything?”
Livvy studied Jack’s face. Patience and respect lingered in his eyes. Both facets warmed her as the evening chill bit at her arms.
After Jack assured the man, George finally drove away. Livvy watched the taillights round the corner and fade into the trees. She turned towards the inlet, comforted by the deep shades of purple now melting into obsidian.
“It looks like Cowler’s man is going to spend the night out there,” she mentioned around a tight throat. “I don’t think it’s really necessary. As you pointed out earlier, we have nothing for Hawkins to come after. The Coast Guard is aware of him. He and his merry men will dive back into the subterfuge they came from.”
There was no response and the night had stolen Jack’s face, leaving no expression to read−no demeanor to gauge.
“I guess you’ll want to be going now,” she mumbled, feeling sad−feeling stupid.
Hugging her arms about her, she glanced up at the emerging stars. Just last night these sparkling entities had formed a compass. They had forged a path just as they had for voyagers thousands of years ago.
“I think,” the deep voice murmured beside her, “that I’d much rather investigate this dinner that George’s wife left in the refrigerator.”
Her sigh of relief emitted a small mist.
“Alright then,” she agreed quietly. “Let’s get inside.”
“So what do you think?” Livvy asked after each had taken turns showering and changing into clean clothes from their overnight bags. “Will someone come back here looking for more debris washing up on my shore?”
Jack leaned his rear against the counter, and crossed his arms. The piney scent of soap filled her cramped kitchen. Wet spikes of hair mingled with drying ones. He looked clean, hard, and lean.
“Honestly, no,” he said. “Hawkins will cut his losses. Whatever cover-up he was aiming for has been busted. Even if a nuclear bomb rolled up on your shore, the damage to him is already done.”
“Jack!” she cried.
He winced. “Okay, poor example, but you know what I’m saying.”
Yes. This psycho militant with his covert operation that went awry two years ago had finally been exposed.
“It’s hard to come down off that adrenaline,” she confided, walking up to the refrigerator, trying to ignore how close he was, and how masculine that pine aroma was. The soap must have come from his bag because hers was vanilla-scented.
Managing a sideward glimpse of him, her cheeks began to burn. They had nearly lost their lives together and here she was suddenly painfully shy.
“I’ll be looking over my shoulder for a few weeks I imagine,” she declared, returning her attention to the food.
Jack moved in behind her to peer over her shoulder. Just the proximity of that body stifled her breathing. Her heart lumbered, and the fingers clasping the handle felt numb.
“I’m not about to leave you here alone, Olivia. If there is even a hint that someone could come back, I won’t leave you alone.”
Livvy swallowed.
“But you just said you don’t believe they’ll come back. You can’t stay here forever,” she joked hoarsely.
Wide hands clasped her hips−a claim that was used to draw her back against him. She felt every rugged inch of that hard body molded against her back.
Warm lips dropped to her ear. “Maybe not,” he whispered. “But I don’t want to go right now.”
“Jack.” The word wrenched from her. If she had thought fatigue had zapped her strength, now she felt like folding−falling−sinking to the ground.
Sensing this, he used his grip to turn her around, the motion driving the refrigerator door closed. He propped her against it and leaned into her using his body to hold her steady. His knee tucked in between her thighs so that if she were to fall, she would be straddling him. One of his hands released her to rest flat against the refrigerator door, propping himself far enough away that he could look into her eyes.
The kitchen lamp flashed in his gaze. To some he might appear dangerous with his brooding looks and sinewy frame, but her vision was clouded with passion. All she could focus on right now were his lips. Full. Pale. Parted. The touch of his breath against her mouth was a precursor−a phantom kiss of its own. Pine and musk overwhelmed her.
“We’ve been through a lot together.” His voice was husky. “You are the strongest woman I have ever met. And−” his free hand caressed her cheek, a calloused fingertip gliding down her jawline, “−the most beautiful.”
When he leaned in, her lips grew slack and her head dropped back against the stainless steel door.
Yes. Please.
But he did not kiss her. Instead, he was suspended so temptingly close.
A moan of protest lodged in her throat.
Perhaps he heard it. The faint lines of a smile cracked around his eyes.
“I want to kiss you, Olivia McKay,” he whispered. “Without the drama. Without our lives being on the line. I want−”
Livvy waited with her breath held, but it seemed he couldn’t get past the words I want.
“Jack,” she rasped. “I want too.”
That liberated him. His mouth crashed down on hers and his hips drove her flush against the refrigerator.
This was raw.
This was need.
For as vulnerable as her position was, she couldn’t tell who the aggressor was. She crossed her arms around his neck, drawing him tight against her. One of her legs hooked on his thigh, but satisfaction still eluded her. Satisfaction would come when absolutely no air existed between them.
The pervasive chill that clung to her body since they had been drawn from the sea was countered by his warmth—and she craved that. She craved his heat.
“Olivia,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. “Hold onto me.”
That was an order she’d gladly comply with.
Jack moved suddenly, sweeping an arm behind her legs, lifting her into his secure grasp. Cradled in his embrace, she felt buoyant. Supple thigh scraping hard chest. The contrast drained her as she fastened her hands further behind his neck.
“I’m taking you to your room,” he declared softly, “unless you say otherwise.”
Livvy reached for his chin and angled it into her kiss. She savored his mouth, toying and tempting him with her tongue, and sighing her pleasure when he let her in. Her foot swung into a bowl of oranges on the corner of the counter.
“I’m going to survive the past forty-eight hours only to break my foot on a cookie jar,” she teased quietly.
“Mmmm,” he nudged away from her lips. “If you’d allow me to concentrate for a few steps I’ll try to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
Heart pounding, she scraped her lips across the bristle of his chin. The wanton abandon had to be an effect of a near death experience. Heightened awareness brought on by the recent trauma.
Oh, and it was intense awareness, alright. She was conscious of his breath, his heartbeat, his scent—
Jack skillfully maneuvered them through her door and released her legs in such a manner that they slid and scraped down every inch of his muscular thighs. Feeling the edge of the bed behind her legs, she grasped his collar, desperately trying to draw him down.
“Easy, Olivia.” His smile was cast in shadow from the filtered kitchen light. “I want you—I guess you can see that.”
A slight dusting of his lips against her temple set her heart fluttering anew.
“But I’m going to warn you—”
Warn me? Uh oh. Warn me what?
“I’m going to want more. More than just tonight. Tonight is something we both need. We’ve been through so much together. I want to be with you all the way. But tomorrow, and the day after that—when the drama starts to fade, I’m still going to want you.”
/> Livvy swallowed slowly.
“Oh.”
She could feel the tension in the arms that possessed her.
“I guess I came across too strong,” he started to withdraw. “That’s not like me. Not like me at all.” His head shook. “But you have pretty much floored me, Olivia McKay.”
Oh no, buddy. She wasn’t about to let him pull away. Mentally or physically.
“You floored me too, Jack. Maybe tonight—yes, maybe this is an outlet—a celebration of still being alive—an exclamation point on a wild ride—”
“Well,” he drawled, “I was thinking the wild ride is just about to start—”
Livvy tapped him on the shoulder with her fist. “Seriously, Jack. You know what I mean.”
“Yes,” he sobered. “I do. And I don’t want you to think—”
Her fingers touched his lips. “This is not a conventional start to a relationship,” she interrupted. “But it is a beginning. And we both don’t want it to end. Let’s take it one day at a time.”
Jack’s head dipped down for a soft kiss. “I better kiss you before I start making all sorts of sappy declarations.”
She could feel his lips curl up and she kissed the top of that arc.
“Sappy declarations sound good,” she teased. After another slow kiss she asked, “How come you call me, Olivia? Everyone calls me Livvy.”
Jack stooped again and she was back up in his arms, only this time he settled her atop the down haven of her bed. God, she loved this bedspread, and after tonight she realized she would love it even more.
“You introduced yourself as that,” he uttered huskily. “Plus, Olivia is the woman that Livvy grew up to be. Olivia is strong. Olivia is beautiful, and Olivia is the name I am going to whisper when I’m inside you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jack woke to the sound of ringing−but it was a muted clang, dulled by underwater acoustics.
No! He was drowning!
Panic spurred him to kick to the surface, but an inflexible mass was strapped across his chest.
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