by Hope Ramsay
He stood up and closed the distance before she could make it to the door. “I didn’t mean to make us the object of gossip,” he said.
“I know. We can blame the weather for that.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her, and then, as gently as he could, he cupped her face.
She didn’t pull away, thank God.
“Jessica,” he murmured, leaning in. “I enjoyed the kiss. Is it beyond reason to hope that something like that might happen again?”
Those big eyes turned in his direction, darkening, telling him everything he needed to know.
He resisted the urge to crush her to him. And maybe it was a good thing that his days of carrying women into his bedroom were over.
She reached out and touched his scars. This time he forced himself not to flinch. And then a miracle happened. She rocked up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, where the damage was at its worst.
Her mouth trailed along the ruined skin, linking kisses and heat all the way to his left ear, which was missing most of the lobe. The damaged nerves along his face jangled, and he winced.
She drew back. “Did that hurt?”
“No. It’s numb there. So it tingles a bit.”
“Oh.” Her eyes got round, and he wanted to erase the shock in them, so he swooped in and kissed her.
She tasted like hope, like a spring day, like coming home. Like it used to feel sometimes when he’d spend his summer days out on the island with Granddad.
She was everything good in the world. She hugged him tight, and he prayed to God she would never let go.
* * *
His lips had a plummy taste, like the moo shu sauce but so much deeper and richer and lustier. How could she square the deep desire with his almost reverent gentleness?
It seemed illogical, but then she’d stopped thinking. Her barriers came down. She let him in, and he swept her away.
Someone should call out the rescue squad or the National Guard, because this had the makings of disaster. He’d started a fire, and she was ready to let it burn.
Maybe it would burn down the house he wanted to build. Maybe it would cauterize her wounds. Or maybe it would just destroy everything in its path.
It was anyone’s guess, but she was tired of trying to do the right thing. She was tired of always being blamed for stuff she never dared to do.
For once she was letting the rebel out, and she didn’t care what people thought.
She followed him to the bedroom. They took off their clothes in utter silence. It seemed as if there ought to be conversation, or banter, or at least some words.
And yet the silence was fine. It was a defense against saying too much, or too little, or the wrong thing.
He was still beautifully built, despite the scars marring his knee. And she was pretty sure that he’d been with lots of women who had curvier figures and longer legs and bigger breasts. So she didn’t ask him what he was thinking.
She just lay down with him and let him rock her world.
* * *
When Jessica awoke, the room was awash in the glow from the fireplace. Sometime in the last hours, while she’d been sleeping, Topher must have gotten up and turned on the gas.
How could she have fallen asleep and missed any minute of this encounter? But then again, the afterglow had been so peaceful.
She wanted more, which was unexpected and new. She wasn’t terribly experienced in relationships, but she’d never wanted more before. Usually she couldn’t wait to leave.
She rose onto an elbow and studied Topher. He’d lost the eye patch, and in the soft light, his scars weren’t noticeable. He was utterly beautiful at rest. The usual tension in his face had disappeared. She was tempted to wake him up, and she wondered if he might object if she stayed all night.
Not that she could. The gossip would be…
Oh, good grief. What had she been thinking? The gossip was going to be horrible.
She checked her watch. And then it was like her higher brain functions finally kicked in. It was almost three in the morning and she couldn’t stay.
She shouldn’t stay.
She got out of bed and tiptoed around the room collecting pieces of clothing.
“Don’t go,” he said from the bed, his voice rough and sexy.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she found her underwear where she’d dropped it on the floor. “I had a really good time, but I need to go.”
“Why?”
“I have a meeting in Miami this afternoon. My flight leaves in about six hours, and I haven’t even packed for it.”
He sat up in bed. “You have a meeting? A new client?”
“It’s a job interview.” She found her pants and pulled them on.
“You’re looking for a job?”
“No. But this opportunity fell in my lap. A firm that specializes in resilient design is trying to recruit me.”
“Oh. And when were you going to tell me this?”
He sounded angry, and she stomped on the urge to tell him it was none of his business. After last night, it probably was. Sort of. Not that she’d made any commitments. Thank goodness.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I should have told you last night. But—”
“Yeah, you should have.”
Now he sounded entitled, and that ticked her off. She finished buttoning up her blouse. “I’m sorry,” she said. “To be honest, this job interview is a blessing given what Caleb Tate is trying to do to me. To you. If I take this job, I don’t need to worry about the City Hall project.”
“Oh.” Now he sounded wounded, and she hated that even more.
“Look, I told you. I’m sorry. I had a really good time and I’d like to stay, but I need to go.”
She turned and jogged through the sitting room and out into a September night, lit up with moonlight that sparkled on the bay. What a perfect night for romance. Too bad she had somewhere else to be.
But maybe that was a good thing. Granny’s words from that day when she’d visited the office haunted Jessica as she hurried through the garden to the parking lot.
Christopher Martin is a man like your father.
The words played on an endless loop in Jessica’s mind as she drove herself home. She had enjoyed the evening, but maybe it was best to leave it at that.
She wanted nothing to do with Granny’s vision of her perfect Cinderella future.
* * *
Topher didn’t sleep the rest of the night. At six o’clock, he dragged himself from the bed and went out for a swim and then spent another couple of hours down at the local YMCA.
He sweated out his frustration, but he didn’t excise Jessica from his mind or his heart.
A hollow place had opened in his chest unlike the depression that had been his companion the last few months. He should have told her how he felt last night. He should have spoken what was in his heart.
But maybe it was better that he hadn’t. Especially if she’d been planning to leave Magnolia Harbor all along.
He returned to the cottage in the early afternoon and spoke briefly with a professor from the College of Charleston, who’d been recommended as an expert in local eighteenth-century history. They chatted for a bit about the artifacts he’d found out by the oak tree, and Professor Hawkins gave him instructions on how to protect the dig until she could take a look at it on Saturday.
“We don’t get artifacts turning up from the early-eighteenth century very often,” she’d said.
At least someone besides Jackie was excited about the hole behind Howland House because Ashley was decidedly unamused.
After he’d finished with Dr. Hawkins, Topher called Harry Bauman and made arrangements to wire a sizable contribution to the City Hall building fund. Once the money cleared, he’d make his request to have a say on the design committee. Maybe if Jessica won that bid, she’d stay in Magnolia Harbor. And if she stayed, maybe there was some hope for him.
But then again, he’d be living out on Lookout Island in his retrea
t. And she’d be here in town, building a life for herself.
It wasn’t even two o’clock when he’d finished all the items on his to-do list. He found his usual spot in the rocking chair on the porch. And like some old has-been, he sat there brooding for the next few hours.
Would Jessica contact him while she was away?
No. She wouldn’t.
Should he follow her to Florida?
No. Not unasked.
As he rocked, he thought about the things he might do to keep her here. And he jettisoned the ideas one by one. Nothing he could do. No deal he could make. No strings he could pull would ever make her love him.
Maybe it was better if she went away so he didn’t have to see her ever again.
He suddenly understood Rose Howland’s letter. Oh yes, he was like her in so many ways. And when Jessica was gone, he’d retreat to his island and keep watch in his lighthouse. And Jessica would be with him.
Always.
Chapter Twenty
A cool rain fell on Friday morning as Kerri Eaton opened Daffy Down Dilly. It was supposed to rain all day today and tomorrow, which would keep the weekend crowd down and affect her bottom line. She depended on these early-fall weekends to meet her sales goals for the year.
The rain soured her already foul mood. She was beyond irritated at every gossip in Magnolia Harbor who was wagging their tongue about how Jess Blackwood had dumped Colton for Topher Martin.
Just last night, at her weekly girls’ night out, Kerri’s girlfriends had done nothing but talk about how Jess was some kind of schemer who’d dropped Colton the minute Topher had returned to Magnolia Harbor. Everyone agreed that it had to be Topher’s money; otherwise why would Jess choose a guy with a face like that?
Really? The gossip was cruel. And it ticked off Kerri because it was unfair to Jess. She’d even said something to her girlfriends, which had soured the evening. Everyone accused her of being blind because Jess was her tenant.
It had taken all of Kerri’s restraint not to get up in her friends’ faces and tell them how, on Saturday—two days before Jess got caught in that storm with Topher—Colton had taken her on a sunset cruise that had ended at his place.
But Kerri could hardly do that seeing as Colton had ghosted her since then. Almost a whole week without any word from him.
Kerri didn’t want to add any fuel to that fire. Or humiliate herself. Or any such thing. She didn’t want to become the topic of the moment the way Jess had.
In fact, Kerri was rethinking a lot of things. She’d done her share of telling tales about people. But it wasn’t so much fun when the stories hit close to home.
She flipped over the closed sign and made herself a cup of coffee. Rainy Friday mornings in September were the bane of her existence.
There wouldn’t be many customers, so she faced a long morning ahead, trying hard not to think about Colton or the romantic memories of Saturday’s cruise.
Synchronicity had taken passengers down the inlet to a spot where they could watch the sun set over the bay. The weather had been perfect, with an easy breeze that had caught the boat’s many sails and carried them all the way down the bay without the use of the engines.
There had also been a couple of times when Jude St. Pierre, Synchronicity’s captain, had asked his brother to help with the rigging. Man oh man, Colton was sexy as hell just standing on her sidewalk. But when he’d climbed out onto the mast at the front of the boat in order to help rig one of the big sails, she’d been blown away, her heart racing. But not nearly as fast as it had later in the evening, at his place.
She was falling for him. The fact that she was ticked off at him was a surefire indication that he’d gotten under her skin.
She finished her first cup of the day and headed back to the break room. She’d just poured her second cup when the little bell at the front of the store jangled.
She checked the clock; it was a little after eleven. She’d been here for an hour, and this was her first customer.
She headed to the front of the store and came to a stop. Colton stood there amid her trinkets.
“Do you know where Jessica is?” he asked before she could say a word.
Well, damn. And here she thought the man had finally come to his senses and had arrived to light her fire on this chilly rain-swept day.
“I just got here an hour ago. Why would I know anything about Jess’s whereabouts?” Kerri said in a snippy tone.
He turned, running his hand through his damp hair, water dripping from his rain jacket to her floor. A coil of fury and desire knotted in her stomach.
“I need to talk to her about something important, and she’s not at home or her office. I checked. The door is locked.”
“Did you call her?”
“Yeah. No answer. I’m worried about her.”
“Well, I can’t help you. I’m just her landlady.”
He didn’t seem to be listening. Instead he paced like a caged panther, dripping water everywhere.
Kerri made a snap decision. She could fall in love with him, but she wasn’t going to let herself. He’d been dishonest with her. He had a jones for someone else. And that made him exactly like the last guy who’d darkened her door.
“I think you should leave,” she said, coming to the only conclusion she could. She needed to get that man out of her system. He was trouble.
He turned, a surprised look on his face. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m standing here right in front of you and you haven’t even said good morning. You take me for granted, which is bad enough. But you’ve been dishonest with me.”
“What? How?”
“You let me think that there was no one else in your life. And clearly there is.”
He stood there looking slightly thunderstruck. “But there isn’t.”
“No? You come in here telling me you’re worried about Jess. You treat me like I’m invisible. What do you expect me to think? Colton, you need to take a good long look in the mirror.”
“Uh.” His mouth dropped open.
“I mean it. If you care about Jess Blackwood, then why the hell did you take me out on Saturday?”
“But—”
“Think about it, Colton. I don’t like being used to make some other woman jealous. And what is it? Are you worried now because everyone says she’s got a thing for Topher Martin? Or—”
“Topher Martin? Are you out of your mind? She hates that guy.”
Kerri blew out a breath. “We’re not talking about her. Okay?”
“Wait. I thought we were.”
“No. We’re talking about the way you came in here and treated me like I was nothing. What is it? Are you sorry you took me on that cruise?”
He frowned. “Uh, no. I mean, I didn’t call because I was busy. Jude needed—”
“I don’t care what you’ve been doing. Honestly.”
“But—”
“I just want you to leave now. It’s clear that I don’t mean very much to you. And while it was fun, I think we’re done now, okay?”
“What the hell?”
“Go. Now,” she said, trying very hard not to bellow or scream or shriek. That would have been uncool, and Kerri always kept her cool.
“Yes, ma’am. And I am sorry I darkened your door.” He turned and strode from the store, inadvertently knocking one of her daffodil teacups to the floor in his wake. The cup shattered into a million pieces.
Sort of like Kerri’s heart. She burst into tears and went running for the broom and dustpan. By the time she’d swept up the shards and mopped up the water he’d tracked in, she’d regained her composure.
Barely.
But she’d pull it together eventually. She was strong enough to weather this setback. And besides, she had plenty of practice nursing a broken heart.
* * *
On Saturday morning, Ashley found herself sitting at her dining room table next to her troublesome cousin. The Rev sat across the table from them like a referee.
“Honestly, Topher, if we weren’t related, I’d wring your neck.” Ashley gave Topher one of her I’m-fed-up-with-you glares. It didn’t have much of an impact on him, probably because he’d become Jackie’s favorite relative. Like the crazy uncle every kid loves.
Sort of like Uncle John, Topher’s grandfather, now that she thought about it.
And even though Topher had specifically defied her instructions by taking Jackie to the library, she couldn’t complain about that since Jackie was going to have the absolute best Heritage Day project ever.
No other kid had ever uncovered an archaeological site in his backyard. So Topher had her exactly where he wanted her.
And it was annoying.
Jackie sat next to the Rev, kicking his legs under the table as he gobbled down a second helping of pancakes.
She cast her gaze from Jackie to the Rev, who was also packing away her cooking. The rush of pleasure at seeing her food consumed took the edge off her irritation.
She was proud of Jackie, furious at Topher and Micah for disregarding her wishes, and worried about the historian who was scheduled to arrive at any minute.
There had been a reason Grandmother had put restrictions on who could look at Rose Howland’s letters and diary. And Ashley had a sick feeling the reason might be buried in the backyard.
“Is there more bacon?” the Rev asked, turning his dark-brown stare on her. It never failed to unsettle her.
“Sorry. That’s the last of it,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
His mouth twitched in reaction to her body language. “I can see you’re not having a very good day,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
“Come on, Mom. This is an adventure.”
Right.
“So”—the Rev turned toward Topher—“this diary y’all found. What exactly did it say, again?”
Topher pulled out his cell phone and showed Micah the photo he’d taken of the page in Rose Howland’s common book that contained the directions to the “treasure.”
“Good God,” Micah said, his whole body stiffening as he studied the photo, using his fingers to make the image larger.