Temptation Bay (A Windfall Island Novel)

by Anna Sullivan

  She glanced over and caught him staring. He looked away, feeling ridiculous that just a meeting of gazes had the heat rising to his face. He hadn’t blushed since he was eight and Jenny McWhorter had leaned over and kissed him on the cheek in front of God and his entire third grade class. But he wasn’t in third grade anymore. Any heat he allowed himself to feel on account of Maggie Solomon was going to be a hell of lot farther south than his face.

  “You sure know your way around a silence,” he said, and if keeping his voice even was a struggle, well, he’d managed it, hadn’t he?

  “You change your mind about the spiel?”

  “No, I still don’t want to be lectured like a fifth grader. Although,” he gave her a long, speculative look, “you wouldn’t happen to have any horn-rimmed glasses around, would you?”

  “Yeah, I keep them next to my snood, sensible shoes, and the wooden pointer I spank my naughty pupils with.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “You don’t set the bar very high, do you?”

  “I’m a simple man.”

  Maggie snorted softly, derisively. “Every woman’s fantasy.”

  “Including yours?”

  She didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, but the way she set her jaw spoke volumes.

  Dex grinned at her. “Did I hit a nerve?”

  The helicopter dropped suddenly. Dex grabbed the door handle.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she leveled the Twinstar off, “Did you say something about nerves?”

  Dex considered and discarded a dozen different comebacks.

  His silence was all the response she needed. “That’s what I thought,” she said, smiling one of the small, wry smiles he already knew represented a major display of emotion for her.

  And she’d gone silent again. Dex swore under his breath, but he made sure his tone was light when he spoke for her benefit. “So you were wondering why I’m on my way to Windfall Island.”

  “Not really, but I gather you want to talk about yourself.”

  “Your lack of curiosity is unnatural.”

  She glanced over at him, still amused. “Okay, I’m positively dying. Why are you here?”

  Dex smiled so it felt like she was laughing with him, not at him. “Business.”

  “Who’s getting sued?”

  And now his smile had some actual humor in it. He’d laid his back trail carefully, and he’d worn the suit for a reason. Nice to know it had paid off, especially with a woman who not only sliced her way through bullshit with the skill and finesse of a master chef breaking down a side of beef, but kept her opinions to herself. If he could fool Maggie Solomon, the rest of the island’s population would be asking him for legal advice five minutes after they touched down.

  “Why else would you be coming to Windfall with small bags and a big briefcase?”

  “If I’d known you were here, I’d have left the briefcase behind.”

  “Flattery?”

  “Not entirely.”

  She looked over at him, and Dex lost his breath. The heat in her eyes seemed to incinerate all the oxygen in the cockpit. He should have thought about the case, but he was caught, mesmerized. Hungry. And Maggie Solomon, he thought in amazement, was the only one who could satisfy him. She was testy, sarcastic, and way too smart to be fooled for long, and he wanted her beyond reason.

  “Maggie—”

  “N277HK, I have you on radar,” crackled the voice from Windfall Island Airport.

  Dex hissed out a breath in frustration. But he thought better of what he’d been about to say. He needed to stay far, far away from Maggie.

  She radioed back, requesting final approach. She didn’t look at him again, just sent the helicopter into a banking turn that redirected his attention. He watched the ground rushing up at his face with something approaching gratitude. Of all the dangers he faced on Windfall Island, Maggie crashing the helicopter wasn’t the worst that could happen…

  Chapter Two

  Windfall Island sat a couple miles from the far end of one of the long, thin peninsulas stretching out from the mainland. Houses dotted the shoreline, modest, year-round dwellings rather than the sprawling glass-fronted vacation homes that had begun to spring up on the smaller islands. At the seaward end of the island, clustered around a pretty little bay, sat a handful of buildings, hunkered together against the Atlantic winter about to sock in. At the landward end was the marina with its weathered docks and spearing masts, and the village, population nine hundred eight—not counting three babies on the way.

  From his current altitude, Windfall looked welcoming with its quaint settlement, its checkerboard of neat fields already harvested for fall, and its quiet, forested shorelines. But Dex knew better. Even if his research hadn’t already clued him in to the kind of welcome he could expect, geography would have provided a warning.

  Roughly half the island had direct exposure to the Atlantic. Even on a day like this, with blue skies and mild winds, the surf foamed and sprayed along the jagged, rocky shore. Dex could only imagine what it must be like in a gale, winds whipping the ocean into a frenzy, surf thrashing the exposed coast; even the wide channels separating the island from the mainland would be impassable.

  Geography, however, was only part of the story. Isolation might be a physical reality, but the history of the residents made it a way of life. Dex expected a warm welcome. Tourism made up their main source of income, after all, and he was arriving at the tail end of the season. But they weren’t stupid or unobservant. What they were was rarified, and a lone man asking a lot of unusual questions wouldn’t go unnoticed or unremarked for long. It would make his job that much harder, but he never let a little adversity stop him. His eyes wandered left again and he thought, Nope, one impossible undertaking at a time.

  “Not much to it,” he observed, making an obvious visual survey of Windfall Island.

  “We have everything we need. Where are you staying?”

  “I’m at the Horizon.”

  “Really?” She slanted him a look, surprised. “That’s an efficiency. AJ only rents by the week. You planning to be around a while?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  She didn’t respond, too busy landing the helicopter, Dex figured, so he left her to it. Not surprisingly, she climbed out as soon as she’d powered down the bird, coming around to unlatch his door before it occurred to him to release his harness. And then he left it on because having her lean across him was irresistible… until her scent went to his head. Since he needed his wits about him he let her step back. But he drew the line at watching her schlep his luggage again.

  Of course, she was still being unreasonable, so he simply took her by the waist and shifted her aside.

  “What the hell?”

  “Finally.”

  “As in finally you’re going to die?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Put your hands on me again—”

  Dex crowded her back against the Twinstar. He didn’t put his hands on her. “And what?”

  “And you’d better be prepared to swim off this island, because I won’t take you and I can see to it that no one else does either.”

  “Already desperate to keep me around?”

  She plowed a fist into his stomach.

  Dex’s breath whooshed out, in surprise more than anything else. She couldn’t have put much behind it with barely six inches between them, but he stepped away from her, slow and easy. And he was grinning. “I just wanted to see the real you.”

  “This isn’t the real me.”

  “Maybe not,” he said, rubbing a hand over his ribs, “but it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than the tour guide who flew me in from Portland.” Interesting, hell; she was glorious, blue eyes blazing, chin stuck out, that long, lean body all but vibrating with temper. She didn’t show the slightest hint of a pout or sulk, she didn’t pull out the tears or try to inflict guilt. In fact, she looked like she might pop him again. He rounded the helicopter
to retrieve his luggage.

  “You didn’t rent a car,” she said, surprising him again by how easily she reined in her anger. A woman who’d had a lot of practice, he’d bet, and found himself wondering why.

  He let that go, too. What made Maggie Solomon tick was none of his concern. “I was told everything is in walking distance.”

  “As long as everything you want is in the village.”

  “Do you live there?”

  “I live here.”

  Dex looked around, belatedly realizing they’d landed on the seaward end of the island, about as far from town as they could get, thinking, why am I not surprised, but saying, “Maybe you could put me up. I’m not very picky. I’ll sleep just about anywhere.”

  “Well, then, you definitely need to stay at the Horizon. You’ll be the biggest thing to hit the place since the hurricane of ought six.”

  “Not a lot of single men in town?”

  She gave him a look, down, then up, definitely laughing at him again, although at least this time he got the joke. “Single won’t be the deciding factor. On either side.”

  “Should I take that as a compliment?”

  “I’d take it as a warning. Most every man on Windfall has a gun, and there’s a long history of territoriality.”

  That wiped the smile off his face. “You sure there’s not a spare room around here? You’re hostile, but I don’t get the feeling you’d shoot me.”

  “Pull what you did a minute ago, and I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “Maybe you should loosen up a little, have some fun.”

  She sent him another look. Not if you were the last man on earth.

  He’d never thought of himself as a guy who needed the pursuit, but he got a kick out of being rejected by Maggie Solomon. “I’m always up for a challenge,” he said.

  “Then you came to the right place.” Maggie turned for the office, her long-legged stride eating up the ground. “I’ll have my business manager, Jessi, drop you at the Horizon.”

  He abandoned his luggage to trail after her. “I appreciate it.”

  “She’s about to head home anyway, so if you don’t mind it’ll save me the trip. If there’s anything else you need, she can point you in the right direction.”

  “Can she get you to have dinner with me?”

  “That’s not a direction she’ll be pointing you,” Maggie said lightly. She glanced over her shoulder, her expression… If she’d been any other woman, he’d have sworn she was flirting with him.

  He smiled back. “I rarely stop for directions.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you won’t be driving.”

  Okay, not flirting, Dex decided, but still smiling, at least. The thing was, he couldn’t take no for an answer. If he knew his small towns, and he did, gossip would be the hobby of choice for just about everyone on the island. Except for Maggie Solomon, apparently. That meant any information he could drag out of her would be reliable. “Are you always this standoffish?”

  “If I can help it.”

  “Good, I was afraid this place would be boring.”

  The Solomon Charters waiting room was a calm, clean space with old-fashioned tile waxed to within an inch of its life, serviceable, if dated, chrome-and-black Naugahyde furniture, and a long unmanned counter. The wide office beyond was like getting too close to the sun, all heat and bright light and crackling energy. Maggie was used to it. Dex looked a little shell-shocked.

  Music played, the printer hummed, the radio squawked, and every inch of wall space was covered with charts, maps, bulletin boards, and random notes tacked up at odd angles with multi-colored push pins.

  Jessi Randal, Maggie’s best friend and Girl Friday, stood in front of a desk crowded with office equipment, her son’s school projects, and haphazard stacks of paperwork. She had a phone jammed between her ear and shoulder, and she was bent over the desk taking notes with a fuzzy purple pen, her butt waggling to a song that was thumping bass and not much else.

  Maggie tossed the clipboard she’d brought in from the Twinstar on top of a stack, sending papers and file folders slumping sideways to bank up against the old-fashioned rotary office phone.

  Jessi looked up. Her gaze landed on Dex; her usual warm smile turned appreciative. And considering. She turned to Maggie and pointed at him, shaking her hand like she’d burned her fingers.

  Maggie shook her head.

  Jessi rolled her eyes.

  Dex cleared his throat.

  They both ignored him.

  “Really, Mrs. Delacourt,” Jessi said into the phone, “I understand the plane is small, but you know, that means it’s lighter, so it’s a lot easier to defy gravity… No, Maggie hardly ever crashes, and never when she’s flying. Let her behind the wheel of a car and you better watch out, but in a cockpit she’s golden… Yes, you could take a boat, then rent a car and drive ninety miles to the airport then catch a commercial flight to New York, but that’ll cost you more than hiring Solomon Charters, and—oh, wait, you don’t drive, do you?”

  Jessi listened for a second or two, then, grinning, she wrote Delacourt on a scheduling board next to her desk. She finished with “Thank you,” and hung up, barely pausing to draw breath as she turned to Maggie. “Is this a gift for me? And if it is, why is it dressed for a funeral?”

  Dex glanced down at his perfectly respectable black suit, then at Maggie. “I doubt she’d call me a gift.”

  “Not even close to being on the list.”

  Jessi took another look at Dex, an embarrassingly long and thorough look. Dex didn’t seem to mind, until she started talking.

  “Good looking,” Jessi said. “Focused, healthy ego but he’s probably earned it, and if he wasn’t interested in you, I’d be all over him.”

  “Are you a business manager or a profiler?” Dex said.

  “Jessi likes to think she can read people.”

  “Jessi likes to think that because it’s true,” Jessi said.

  Maggie shook her head. “If I had a clue how to find anything in this mess you call an office, you’d be history.”

  “Right, and then who’d pay the bills, answer the phone, and deal with Mrs. Delacourt?”

  “I have skills,” Maggie said.

  “People skills?”

  “Those, too. Sort of. I deal with the tourists.”

  “As long as you keep to the script,” Jessi said, and then she caught the smirk on Dex’s face. “Look, Mr. Keegan agrees with me.”

  “Dex,” he said, “and the script isn’t all that great, either.”

  “See? I told you he was into you.”

  “He’s a gift for you, remember? Start unwrapping. Don’t mind me.”

  Jessi burst out laughing, so did Maggie. They both looked at Dex, and laughed harder.

  “This is very entertaining,” he said, “but maybe you could use some actual words.”

  Maggie hooked a thumb in his direction. “Lawyer.”

  “They do like their words,” Jessi said, “and their arguments. I can see why you’d butt heads with him.”

  “Maggie doesn’t argue,” Dex said.

  “Wait until you get to know her better.”

  “I don’t climb.”

  Jessi frowned. “How did we get from Maggie to mountains?”

  “Not mountains, walls,” Dex corrected, his gaze switching to Maggie. “High ones.”

  “Not just words; you like metaphors, too.” Jessi sidled closer, grinned up at him. “I’ll bet you were a nerd in school, black-rimmed glasses, and with that dark hair,” she sighed, “I always had a thing for Clark Kent.”

  “Clark Kent I could do, but I don’t have a red cape.”

  “Too bad. Superman could leap tall buildings. Maggie’s walls would be no challenge to him.”

  Two pairs of eyes slid sidelong to her.

  Maggie rolled hers. “If you two are finished, Mr. Keegan needs a ride into town, Jess. And since you’re off the clock,” she consulted her watch, “ten minutes ago, I volunteered y
ou to drive him to the Horizon.”

  “You’re at the Horizon?” Jessi said. “You must plan on being around a while.”

  “Depends,” Dex said. “Maybe I could pick your brain while we head into town.”

  “Sure. Wanna play twenty questions?”

  “I’ve got more than twenty questions. Maggie wouldn’t answer her share.”

  Maggie took a deep breath but it didn’t help much. It had been a long day. She stared at Dex, bonding with Jessi. A long, trying day. “Yes, Jessi has lived here all her life,” she said, “yes, she’d love to know why you’re here. You can duck her questions, and she can tell you about growing up on the island. It should be a fascinating conversation. Go have it in the car.”

  “You grew up here?” Dex said, focusing all his attention on Jessi.

  “Don’t you have to go?” Maggie asked Jessi before she could answer.

  Jessi looked at her watch and freaked out. “Sh—, Da—, Fudge Popsicles,” she shouted, a blur as she raced from one side of the office to the other, collecting her purse and coat. “I should have picked up Benji by now, and Dottie Hampton is always so snotty when I’m late. Maggie, you’ll have to take Mr. Keegan into town yourself.”

  “Call me Dex,” he said, getting out of her way as she streaked around her desk.

  Maggie stepped between Jessi and the door. “Jess, you have to go right by the Horizon.”

  “Absolutely true,” Jessi said, smiling suggestively, infuriatingly, at Maggie, before she shoved by. “Nice meeting you, Dex. Welcome to Temptation Bay,” she called out as she slammed through the office door, then the outer one. A few seconds later, Maggie heard her ancient Explorer cough to life and roar off.

  She glanced at Dex. His expression was a lot like Jessi’s, except more smug.

  “Temptation Bay?” he said.

  “Is that amusing?”

  He gave her a thorough once over. “Appropriate is the word I’d use.”

  The heat that was rising to her face spread, but before it could get real traction she funneled it into annoyance. “I could make you walk,” she pointed out.