“Diving where?” she asked, her face only inches from his.
“Around Thunder Island.”
She reared back. “But why? I told you we can’t draw attention to the island.”
Duncan pulled her back against him, tucked her head under his chin, and heaved a weary sigh. “Don’t worry, nobody saw us. I just wanted to have a look around underwater.”
“And?” she muttered into his chest.
“And there’s plenty more lobsters and crabs like those you got Friday night, and hundreds of dead ones closer to the island shoreline.” He kissed the top of her head, reached down, and pulled the blankets up over them. “But other than that, there’s nothing. No containers or anything else out of the ordinary.”
Willow was silent for several heartbeats, then she wrapped her arms around him and said, “You don’t feel that cold.”
“I had the truck heater on full blast all the way here. A bone-deep chill is all I’m feeling now.”
Willow threw her leg over his and snuggled him closer—and found that his mind might not be up to making love, but his body sure was interested.
She settled her cheek against his wonderfully muscled chest, ignoring his hand that slipped down her back to cup her bottom. “Go to sleep, Dunky. We’ll start our affair in the morning.”
His lips brushed over her hair, the rough stubble of his jaw combing through it, and Duncan’s arms tightened around her with a soft sigh of contentment. Within two minutes his breathing evened out in the rhythm of deep sleep, and within five minutes Willow also drifted back to sleep—thinking that as affairs went, this one was starting out with a bit less than a bang.
Chapter Seven
“Ya slipped out of bed and snuck off without waking me.”
Willow smiled across her desk at Duncan, painfully aware that they were not alone. Karen stood hovering in the doorway of the outer office, seemingly uncertain whether to call Security or simply continue to stare at the handsome giant scowling at her boss.
“I did not slip out of bed, I was crowded out,” Willow whispered through her tight smile. “And I didn’t wake you for fear of my life.”
“Excuse me?”
Willow laid down her pen, folded her hands together, and kicked up her smile several notches. “I wasn’t about to roust a sleeping tiger. I am well aware they wake up grumpy.”
“A tiger?” he repeated, puffing out his chest.
Willow lifted one brow. “You certainly sounded like one, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.” She leaned to her left to see past him. “It’s okay, Karen. Everything’s under control.”
“Your, ah, nine o’clock is here,” Karen said, forcibly tearing her wide-eyed gaze from Duncan to look at Willow. “Do you want me to get Mrs. Poole a cup of coffee?”
“That would be good, Karen. Tell Mary I’ll be with her in a few minutes. And could you find me the Johnson file?”
“It’s on your desk…ah, somewhere,” Karen said, waving at the mountain of files.
“Thanks,” Willow muttered, standing up and rummaging through the files, sorting them into new stacks on her blotter.
“What time did ya sneak out?” Duncan asked, taking a seat across from her, making himself right at home.
Willow carried one stack of files over to an empty shelf on the far wall of bookcases. “I did not sneak out. I showered, had breakfast, and left around seven.” She walked to the door, closed it, then walked back to Duncan to better glare down at him. “Why were you diving around Thunder Island?”
“To see what was there. Luke, Kee, and Ahab were with me.”
“Even though you knew I didn’t want any attention drawn to that area, the four of you spent yesterday diving there.”
“Ahab and Kee dropped Luke and me in the water and kept going, then picked us up several hours later so we could look over the island as well. Nobody saw us.”
“They just dropped you and Luke in the ocean and then left? Isn’t that against some diving code or something?”
Duncan shrugged. “There were two of us, and the island was right there if we ran into trouble while underwater. And we were in communication with Kee.” He suddenly took hold of her wrist, pulled her down onto his lap, and kissed her quite thoroughly. “Good morning,” he whispered the moment he was done.
Willow felt her cheeks flush as she darted a quick look at her closed office door. “Good morning,” she whispered back, cupping his face in her hand with a sigh. “You’re heading back to Puffin Harbor this morning, aren’t you?”
“Aye. I only saw Molly for a few minutes last night.”
“She just showed up unannounced? Why?”
“Mother trouble, it seems,” he said, standing up and setting Willow on her feet. He pulled some of her hair over her shoulder and gave it a gentle tug. “Molly thinks she’s in love with a New Zealand sheep farmer. So she’s run away from home and is hoping I’ll run interference for her with Mother.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-six.”
That surprised Willow. “But you make it sound like she’s eighteen or something.”
“Sometimes she is eighteen,” he said with a sigh. “And sometimes she’s older than I am.”
“Are you going to help her?”
“Help her marry some shepherd she met on the Internet? Not without meeting him first.”
“You’ll go with her to New Zealand, then?”
He shook his head. “If Benjamin Zane wants my sister, he can damn well make the trip here and ask for her hand in person.”
“My, aren’t you the patriarch,” Willow whispered, patting his chest and shooting him a crooked smile as she walked back around her desk. “You said you have a brother. Why didn’t Molly go to him for help?”
“Camden?” Duncan asked, picking up the files she was reaching for. He carried them over to the shelf and set them beside the others. “He has bigger problems to deal with right now. Molly’s love life is my cross to bear.”
“Are you the oldest?”
“Aye.”
“And there’s just you, your mother, brother, and sister?”
“And a small army of assorted relations. Willow,” he said, walking back and taking hold of her shoulders. “I wish I could stay but I can’t. And I don’t know if I’ll get back here before Friday.” He traced a finger down the side of her face. “I’m sorry about last night.”
She shot him a smile. “It was kind of nice just cuddling.”
He used his finger under her chin to lift her face to his, and leaned down and kissed her again. “We’ll have the Seven-to-Two Odds to ourselves Friday,” he said. “Just you and me and Mickey. We can anchor out for the night, if you’d like.”
“Mmmm, that sounds nice. I haven’t spent time with Mickey in ages.”
Duncan’s brows lowered and his eyes darkened in response to her being more interested in the wolf than in him. “Are ya arriving Friday morning or Thursday night? They’re predicting a storm to come up the coast later this week, and that might impact our plans.”
Willow glanced at the mountain of work on her desk. Even without the waste site files it seemed overwhelming. “Actually,” she said, looking back at Duncan, “I don’t think I’ll get out of here before Friday noon, because three cases I’m working on are coming together more quickly than I expected. And I have to drive to Orono and pick up some water sample kits first, so I won’t get into Puffin Harbor until around suppertime. Weather permitting, can we go out Saturday instead? Or maybe Friday night, if I get in early enough?”
Duncan pulled her into his arms again. “We’ll plan for Friday night, then, if the storm’s passed.” He leaned away and smiled down at her. “Bring that cute little bit of lace you were wearing last night, will ya?”
“On the schooner? I’ll freeze.”
“I won’t let ya freeze, counselor,” he said gruffly, dropping his head and kissing her again.
Willow wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted up on her
toes to deepen the kiss just as the intercom buzzed. “John’s secretary just called,” Karen said frantically. “He’s on his way down here.”
Willow jerked free as if she’d been stung. “That’s my boss,” she said, stepping away and rubbing her thoroughly kissed lips with the back of her hand. She pointed at Duncan. “You behave yourself, Dunky.”
His mouth turned down in a wounded look, but his eyes sparkled bright with challenge.
Willow shot around her desk just as the buzzer beeped three quick times, a knock sounded on her office door, and John Pike, Maine’s attorney general, walked in. He stopped just inside the door, his sharp blue eyes landing on Duncan standing behind her desk before his gaze slid to her. “Excuse me for interrupting, Willow, but I need that file on the Johnson case for my meeting with Ed Johnson this morning.”
“I have it right here. Somewhere,” she said briskly, turning to search her desktop.
John stepped toward Duncan and held out his hand. “John Pike,” he said.
Duncan stepped around the desk and extended his own hand. “Duncan Ross,” he returned. “I’m a friend of Willow’s from Puffin Harbor.”
“Ross,” John repeated, having to tilt his head up to study Duncan’s face. “Why do I know that name?”
“Duncan was involved in the Raoul Vegas incident two years ago,” Willow explained, handing John the Johnson file. “He’s one of the men who helped build our case against Vegas.”
“Ah,” John murmured, eyeing Duncan with renewed interest. “Ross,” he repeated again. “Aren’t you the guy who rescued Willow?”
“It was a team effort” was all Duncan said. He looked at Willow. “I’ll see you later this week, counselor. Pack light,” he added, his eyes dancing.
“Pack?” John echoed, looking up from scanning the Johnson file to frown at Willow. “You’re going on a trip?”
“We’re taking a weekend sail Down East,” Duncan said before she could answer. He headed to the door, stopped, and looked back at John. “Her sister’s been worried that Willow rarely takes the time to come home for a much-needed visit. And I would think, Mr. Pike, that ya’d be worried about losing a good assistant AG to exhaustion. Willow only takes her vacations in fragments, one or two days scattered here and there, rather than one or two full weeks like she should. At the rate she’s pushing herself, she’ll burn out in another year.”
John snapped his gaze to Willow and caught her glaring at Duncan. “Is that true?” he asked. “You haven’t taken a real vacation since you started here?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she defended, darting a scathing look at Duncan before giving John her full attention. “I prefer taking long weekends.”
John shook his head. “The man’s right, Willow. It’s not healthy to get so wrapped up in your work.”
“I’ll see ya this weekend, counselor,” Duncan interjected, drawing her and John’s attention again and smiling much too congenially. Why wasn’t she surprised Duncan’s idea of behaving himself was not exactly the same as hers? “Take care driving back Friday,” he added, turning to walk out the door. “Remember they’re predicting a storm.”
Just for a minute, and not for the first time, Willow wished her eyes could shoot real daggers so she could hit Duncan Ross right between the shoulder blades.
“Willow,” John said when Duncan was gone, “an overworked assistant attorney general is no good to me. Is it true you haven’t had a vacation in three years?”
“Two. I’ve only been here two years, John.”
He canted his head at her, his smile warm and a bit wistful. “It’s only been two? I remember my first couple of years here; I had the same fire you do for this job. I was forty-six when I left corporate America and went to law school. I came out three years later ready to take on the world.” He shook his head. “It took watching my wife battle breast cancer to make me quit worrying about the big picture long enough to see the small one.”
“But it’s our job to worry about the big picture.”
He shook his head again. “Not at the expense of the small picture. We can’t slay dragons unless we’re in top fighting form, or be effective unless we balance work with our personal lives. You have from now until Friday to clear your desk and delegate what’s left, because you’re taking next week off.”
“But I can’t leave right now. I have three cases pending.”
“Greg can—no, he’s got the Briggs trial. Paul can take over the Poole case, and Rita can work on that class action suit for water rights in western Maine. I’ll babysit the mercury lawsuit until you get back.”
“But Mrs. Poole—”
John stopped her by holding up his hand. “I know you’re meeting with her this morning, so I’ll send Paul in and you can introduce them. Well-water contamination is not rocket science, Willow. Paul can handle it for the week you’ll be gone.” His blue eyes glistened with a fatherly smile. “If I’ve learned one thing in the six years I’ve worked here, it’s that no one is indispensable, Willow. If you were to—God forbid—break your leg this afternoon, this office would keep running and your cases would still move forward.”
“You make it sound like a chimp could sit at my desk.”
That fatherly smile turned describably sportive. “I’ll be sure to tell Paul that when I send him in to meet Mrs. Poole.”
Willow winced, tamping down the flush creeping up the back of her neck. Oh yeah, she definitely was going to get Duncan for opening this can of worms. Maybe she’d accidently trip and knock him over the side of the schooner Saturday.
“What else are you working on?” John asked, tucking the Johnson file under his arm. “Office rumor is you’ve been digging into the DEP archives of the Kingston Corporation. Is there something going on with them I don’t know about?”
“No, nothing that I know of. I was just looking for an old geological survey.”
He turned toward the door but hesitated. “Mr. Ross seemed a bit, ah…proprietary toward you.” He held up his hand. “I know it’s none of my business, Willow, but just for the record, I like him.”
“You just met him.”
John’s smile turned fatherly again. “The fact that he’s the guy who rescued my assistant AG might be influencing me, but there’s something about Duncan Ross that rings…solid. Or maybe courageous is the word I’m looking for,” he said, waving at the air. “And I have a feeling a man would need buckets of both to hold your interest.”
Willow was a bit alarmed. Apparently John Pike had been quietly watching her personal life. Well, he hadn’t gotten to be Maine’s AG by wearing blinders. And he hadn’t kept the position for the last four years by not knowing what his underlings were up to.
“Duncan’s a good man,” she admitted, her smile rueful. “When he’s not driving me crazy.”
“Have fun next week,” John said with a laugh. “I’ll tell Karen to buzz Paul’s office and have him come down for your meeting with Mrs. Poole.” He stopped in the doorway and pointed the Johnson file at her. “And thank Mr. Ross for me. I’m going to look into everyone’s vacation schedules from the last few years.”
“And I’m going to look into buying some mace,” Willow muttered to herself as John left, walking back to her desk. “And the next time you show up at one in the morning, Dunky, I’m going to open the door and let you have it.”
“He can probably give back as good as he gets,” Karen said, walking in with Mrs. Poole. Karen fanned her face with her hand. “Whew. Does the guy have any brothers?”
“One,” Willow said, going to greet Mary Poole. “The thought of which gives me shivers—to think there’s more like him walking around. Hi, Mary,” Willow said, taking the older woman’s hand and leading her to a chair by the bookcases, preferring an informal setting for their meeting. “Thank you for traveling all the way down from the County this morning. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
Karen let herself out and quietly closed the door—and the rest of Willow’s Tuesday w
ent by in a blur of meetings, a court appearance, lunch at her desk, and supper standing at her kitchen counter at ten that night.
Willow made it home by seven o’clock on Wednesday, after another grueling day for which she had a paper cut, a run in her stockings, and a pounding headache to show for it.
She let herself into her apartment, kicked off her shoes, and set down her briefcase by the door as she thought about trying to find time to schedule a pedicure, deciding that every girl needed pretty toenails to start off an affair properly. And maybe she’d shop online at a few lingerie sites, too, and have something sexy—maybe hot red and naughty—overnighted to her before Friday.
Yeah, that’s how she’d get even with Duncan; she’d make the man’s eyes permanently cross.
Willow had just stepped into the kitchen, smiling at her plan, when the brass knocker on her door rapped softly. She leaned over the sink and looked out the window, but only saw her SUV in the driveway. The knocker sounded softly again, and Willow finally realized who her visitor was.
She went back into the living room and opened the door with a warm smile. “Hi, Mabel,” she said, stepping aside to let her landlady in. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting in your window all evening watching for me to come home.”
“I was listening to a new book on tape,” the eighty-one-year-old said as she held out a small plastic container. “I brought you some macaroni and cheese for supper.”
Willow recognized the Meals-on-Wheels container, and her heart skipped at the gesture. She reached out and took the box, knowing that if she didn’t Mabel’s feelings would be hurt.
“You’re supposed to eat the meals they bring you, Mabel, not hoard them to give to me. What did you have for lunch today?”
The elderly woman waved her hand in dismissal and made her way into the kitchen. “I don’t like macaroni and cheese,” she said, sitting down and patting the table across from her. “I just ate the roll and cole slaw. Stick it in the microwave and come sit down and tell me what’s wrong with your cable. The man came to fix it today, but I told him you usually warn me if someone’s coming to work on your apartment.”
The Dangerous Protector Page 8