Rescue Me (Butler Island)

by Nikki Rittenberry

  A brisk, eerie chill swept over her spine, raising the hair on the back of her neck. She shivered slightly, recalling having felt the frigid bite once or twice before.

  Stress. That’s likely what it’d stemmed from.

  She’d been cast into a highly strenuous role. And as thankful as she was for the opportunity to raise funds for the organization, bestowing a heroic legacy upon Jimmy’s name, she couldn’t deny the task had caused many sleepless nights.

  Of course, Randall had been partly to blame for that as well.

  “Lana?”

  “Yes?”

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get my purse.”

  “The auction will benefit the Public Service Society, a non-profit organization aimed at helping injured public service workers, like firemen and police officers, and their families. And…” Lana steeled her spine with a deep breath. “If the worker dies as a result of his injuries, the organization lends support to the widow.”

  “That sounds real nice, ma’am”, said the owner of Jetson’s Jingles, a small gift store in Apalachicola specializing in homemade jewelry. “I’d like to help—really, I would—but business is pretty slow these days. Tourism’s down, which directly affects my bottom line.”

  Lana tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Mr. Jetson—”

  “Please, call me David.”

  “Okay, David, I understand business has been slow. And helping a complete stranger seems impractical when you’re struggling to make ends meet too…” Clearing her throat, she continued, “The proceeds for this auction will help people like me, David. My husband was killed last year from injuries he sustained in the Tate’s Hell brush fire.”

  David reached for his chest in surprise. “That was your husband?” Lana nodded feebly. “I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how shocked I was to find the fire department chief and my husband’s best friend at my door step that evening. Even more shocking was the sudden realization that my husband wasn’t coming home. Frankly the first week or two after the accident was… a blur. But once the new bill cycle regenerated, I realized I had a whole new set of problems...”

  Mayor Cliffburg was in awe. Lana was slowly reeling David in, inch by inch. The owner seemed kind enough—a law abiding citizen, turning his talent for making jewelry into profit. The recession had affected Florida tourism. Snow birds from up north, majority of whom lived on fixed incomes, hadn’t migrated to the mild Gulf Coast last winter, and Jetson’s Jingles, like many other businesses along the Panhandle, had surely suffered.

  He knew, deep down, David wanted to help. He just needed to be convinced there was something in it for him.

  “So you see, David, donating several pieces not only benefits families like mine, it also benefits you. Because not only will bidders see your beautiful creations, they’ll also be made aware of your generosity. And you may not know this”, she uttered quietly as she leaned over the jewelry counter for emphasis, cupping her hand around her mouth, “but word travels fast on Butler Island. And you know what they say: word-of-mouth is one of the most credible forms of advertising—not to mention, it’s virtually free.”

  That assessment definitely seemed to intrigue the owner. David chewed on the information for several beats, tapping his fingertips against the glass jewelry display. Knowing she likely had David exactly where she wanted him, Lana remained silent, allowing her powerful argument to take root.

  The woman was a born negotiator. She knew how to play her cards—when to push, and when to bite her tongue. And not for the first time that evening, Mayor Cliffburg wondered if she was like that in the bedroom. Did she give as good as she got? Was she a wildly fearless lover, disguised in an innocently beautiful package? He intended to find out.

  “Well, you make a valid point, young lady. I could sure use a boost in sales. Guess it doesn’t make a difference whether business is local or tourist-driven as long as it is business. Know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  David eyed them for another stretch then reached his hand over the jewelry display. “All right, I guess I can donate a few pieces for the auction.”

  Lana placed her dainty hand in David’s and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you so much! I promise, you won’t regret this decision.”

  Crimson stained David’s cheek at her praise. The man was putty in Lana’s small, delicate hands. No surprise there. She’d turned on the charm, related her personal experience with the organization, put a face on the difference the association could make in one’s life as a result of selfless people like him.

  Brilliant.

  “Wait right here while I get everything ready.”

  David retreated to the back of the store, leaving Lana and Mayor Cliffburg alone. As soon as the owner disappeared behind a curtain of hand-threaded beads her bravado deflated, her shoulders sagging noticeably lower than they had been mere moments ago. “That was close”, she uttered under her breath. “For a moment there, I thought no amount of convincing would sway him.”

  “Want to know what I think?” He asked, nudging an unruly lock of milk chocolate hair from her eye. “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a force to be reckoned with, Lana Phillips. Frankly, the man didn’t stand a chance.”

  Lana chuckled softly and smiled. “I suppose not.” Then her smile slowly faded as if she were recalling a long forgotten memory. “Jimmy used to say I could talk a person into just about anything as long as I could find an ounce of logic behind it.”

  Yes, he could see that. He could also see his usual tactics weren’t going to woo Lana Phillips into his bed. Nope, she was far too sharp to fall for that. What he needed was finesse—get her talking about her late husband, get her to briefly revisit the utter despair she’d suffered. And when she suddenly needed someone to console her, she’d turn to him.

  Mayor Cliffburg stole a peek at his silver Burberry watch, noting the time: six-o-eight. This was it. Tonight he’d finally make his move. “Listen, why don’t we grab a bite to eat? I spotted an Italian restaurant across the street. I can head over and grab us a table while you wait for Mr. Jetson’s donations.”

  There was a long stretch of silence, made all the longer by the way she chewed on her bottom lip. “Okay”, she said finally. “A quick bite, then I have to get back to my car and head home.”

  “Of course.”

  He resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air once or twice in victory as he pushed through the glass door of Jetson’s Jingles. He’d managed to get over the first hurdle: getting her to agree to have dinner with him. But Lana wasn’t the type of woman he could simply wine and dine—at least, not entirely. It was time to set his well-thought ploy into action.

  “Good evening, sir. One?” The young hostess asked as he approached the black podium in the lobby of Leo’s Italiano.

  The mayor shook his head and gestured with his fingers. “Two, and we’d like your most private, romantic table, please.”

  “Certainly. Right this way…”

  Chapter 25

  It’d only taken another five minutes for Mr. Jetson to appear behind the jewelry display again. The items he’d selected for the auction were simply beautiful, three necklaces and two brooches, varying from classically elegant to glamorously ornate. After thanking him profusely for his generosity, Lana set her sights on Leo’s Italiano, trying to ignore the uneasiness settling in the pit of her gut.

  She’d been experiencing that feeling a lot lately—sort of like a sixth sense. Apprehension and awareness would trickle down her spine and burrow deep in the hollow of her stomach. Immediately she’d become alert, only she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to be looking for.

  “Hi, I’m meeting someone—”

  The hostess glanced from the seating chart splayed across the podium’s surface and smiled. “Tall, attractive in an I’m-intelligent-and-important kind of way?” The young woman inquired
.

  “Um, well, I—”

  The girl smiled again, turning her back on Lana in mid-sentence. “Right this way.”

  She followed the hostess into the dimly lit dining room, weaving through a slew of near empty tables before entering a long, narrow corridor. The sounds of dishes clanking together, the low rumble of boiling pasta, and the organized chaos of chefs busily preparing authentic, gourmet cuisine greeted her on the other side as they passed through the kitchen, finally coming to a halt at a private corner booth.

  “Anything I can get you?” Lana heard the young college girl ask.

  “Already been taken care of, Meagan”, the mayor replied.

  Lana sank into the booth, dropping her purse down on the seat beside her, noting how Meagan nearly melted at hearing her name on the Mayor’s lips. Mayor Cliffburg didn’t seem to notice the effect he had on the poor girl. Good, considering he was nearly twice her age.

  “That was quick”, he stated.

  “Yeah, and we even managed to get two additional pieces: two brooches. Guess he really took my generosity spiel to heart.”

  “That’s because you’re a hard woman to say no to.”

  There it was again—that cold, odd zing. Fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat, she reached for her glass of ice water and took a sip.

  “Here you are, sir”, the waiter announced after placing two wine goblets on the white-clothed tabletop. “Our finest Cabernet Sauvignon.” He presented the bottle to the mayor, allowing him to read the label, then worked the corkscrew into position.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that”, she said, gesturing toward the now open wine bottle. “I’m fine with just drinking water.”

  “You can’t just drink water on a night like tonight.”

  “A night like tonight.” she slowly echoed, baffled. “What’s tonight?”

  “Tonight’s the night we celebrate all the hard work you’ve put into making the very first Jimmy Phillips, Jr. Charity Auction a success.”

  “Isn’t that a little presumptuous? I mean, talking Mr. Jetson into donating a handful of one-of-a-kind accessories is only half the battle; we still need people to bid on them.”

  “Of which I have no doubt they will.” Mayor Cliffburg gently nudged the wine goblet toward her. “Besides, does there really need to be a reason to enjoy a delicious glass of red wine at the end of a busy day?”

  Maybe she was overreacting a bit. After all he’d kindly accompanied her this evening, lending his stature and support to a cause very near and dear to her heart. In fact, none of this would’ve even been possible if not for him. It was no secret the city of Butler Island was still in the midst of a budget crisis, which left funding for events, like the one they were currently planning, very limited.

  And yet he’d suggested it anyway, honoring her late husband’s selfless sacrifice. Lana reluctantly reached for the goblet, completely perplexed by the crescendo of mistrust creeping up spine. “I guess one glass couldn’t hurt.”

  “Atta girl...”

  Everything was going according to plan, he acknowledged as he topped her glass off again. His clever imagination really astounded him sometimes. Sure it’d taken a little convincing on his part to get Lana to agree to the wine, but he wasn’t below playing dirty in order to get what he wanted.

  All it’d taken was a few sips of robust cabernet to loosen her up a bit, and a feigned interest into the man her late husband was, and he was swiftly back on track. He’d engaged her mind, distracting her lovely, deep-blue eyes away from his hustling hands—hands artfully refilling her glass in steady increments.

  Currently, she was babbling on about her son, Cody… Carson… Hell, did it really matter what his name was? The kid was a spitting image of his good-for-nothing dad and a little hellion to boot.

  He hated kids.

  Snotty noses, temper tantrums, whining, always demanding attention…

  Needless to say, pursuing a single mom wasn’t his usual M. O. I mean, what man in his right mind wanted to share a woman with a bratty kid that wasn’t even his?

  But there was just something about Lana Phillips—something that grabbed him by the balls and made him take notice. For seven long years he’d wanted her. Oh, he tried to move past his bone-deep attraction, using various women over the years to ease the yearning.

  But it’d never worked, of course; there’s no substitution for perfection.

  “And what about you.”

  “Me?” Lana asked, palming her chest.

  “Yes. How are you handling things? I’m sure the anniversary of Jimmy’s passing isn’t going to be easy.”

  “No”, she uttered almost inaudibly. “It’s not.”

  Time to go in for the kill. “You know”—he reached for her hand, reassuringly caressing her silk-like skin with the pad of his thumb—“you’re not alone. It’s going to be a hard day for a lot of people—me included... I can’t tell you how many sleepless nights I’ve spent going over that day in my mind; how differently things may’ve turned out if only I’d have contacted Chief Handler—asked him to stand down.”

  Lana slid closer in the corner booth, narrowing the twelve-inch gap between them. “What happened to Jimmy wasn’t your fault, Mayor Cliffburg. And we both know you had no authority to reject the fire department from responding to that brush fire.”

  His eyes bored into hers for a stretch. “Michael”, he finally said.

  “What?”

  “Call me, Michael. You’ve been my secretary for the past seven years, Lana. Think we’re far beyond formalities by now, don’t you? And about Jimmy’s death being my fault: logically, I know it isn’t. But I can’t help but feel indirectly responsible in some way.”

  Candlelight flickered across her pretty face, making her eye’s gleam. Concern swam in their blue depths. Okay, so admittedly he usually wasn’t one for pity-fucks—never had to resort to that kind of ploy before. But he liked where this was going. Maybe he’d been going on about this all wrong. Maybe the key to getting Lana Phillips naked wasn’t his ability to console her. No, it was about her comforting him.

  “You’re not responsible—no one is…”

  Unable to resist, he let his gaze lower to her luscious lips. He wanted to taste them, nibble on them—

  “Wow, you certainly move fast, don’t you?” Jenny Carson stood before them, gripping a white bus tub, her auburn hair pulled back into a high ponytail. “First, Tommy; now the Mayor.”

  “Excuse me?” Lana asked incredulously. “I never—”

  “Let me guess: you never slept with my husband, right? Well you know what?—doesn’t really make a damn bit of difference. Half the town saw the two of you cuttin’ up the dance floor that night. They settled on a conclusion. And they couldn’t wait to run back and share it with me.”

  Mayor Cliffburg sensed some serious animosity between the two women. Serious animosity.

  “You know, Jenny, we’ve been friends for a long time—good friends. And to think you’d believe a bar full of loose-lipped instigators over the word of a good friend, shows how very little you must actually think of me.”

  The two women were silent for a stretch. The Mayor’s eyes cautiously darted back and forth between them. The air was thick with tension.

  “You don’t even want to know what I think of you at the moment”, Jenny seethed through clenched teeth. “I’ll spare you the expletives since you’re on a date.”

  Lana gestured between her and the mayor. “This isn’t a date, it’s a business—”

  Jenny stepped forward, resting the bus tub on the edge of the table. “Sittin’ in a private, romantic corner booth away from prying eyes, candlelight, wine, the two of you practically holding hands… How do you expect me to believe a word that comes out of your mouth when you can’t even fess up to what this—“she swept her hand in the air—“really is?” Sensing she’d successfully made her point, Jenny picked up the large, white bus tub and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I’m really s
orry about that”, Lana offered quietly.

  “No apology necessary. Really.” He looked her over for a few beats, noting how her brows drew together, how her hands trembled. “I sense there’s a story behind what just happened.” Lana nodded feebly. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, it’s just…” She paused for a moment, running her fingers through her milk chocolate hair. “I’m sorry, can you just…take me back to my car, now? I’d really like to just go home.”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.” Mayor Cliffburg caught the waiter’s attention and asked for the check. As predicted, Lana reached into her purse for her wallet the moment the waiter placed the black leather check presenter on the tabletop. “Don’t even think about it. Tonight’s on me.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘buts’. Tell you what: I’ll let you buy next time.” Because there would be a next time. He’d see to it.

  With a weak nod she let go of her purse, quietly waiting for the waiter to return with the receipt. Mayor Cliffburg hurriedly scribbled his name, then gestured toward the back exit with his chin. “Ready?”

  Nodding, she slid to the edge of the booth, rising unsteadily to her feet, quickly gripping the edge of the table for balance.

  “Whoa, you all right?”

  “Yeah, I…” Pursing her lips, she slowly released a stream of air. “Wow, I guess the wine decided to pick this moment to kick in.”

  “Between that and the fact you barely touched your food, I’d say so.”

  Lana tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and closed her eyes. “Gosh, this is so embarrassing”, she uttered on a sigh. “What kind of person gets drunk in front of their boss?”

  The mayor sidled up beside her. “’I’m more than just your boss, Lana. At the very least, I’d like to think we’re friends.” And then it happened. Lana opened her eyes, turning those deep-blue peepers on him and smiled.