Temptation Bay (A Windfall Island Novel)

by Anna Sullivan

“A man would be my guess.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “The root of all evil.”

  “Not to a young woman in the twenties.”

  Maggie had to agree with Dex there. As a nanny in the Stanhope household, Sonja would have been fairly well paid, but she’d have been at the beck and call of the family, nearly around the clock. Getting married wouldn’t have relieved her of the hard work, but at least it would be her house and her children.

  That didn’t excuse what she’d done out of spite and selfishness.

  “She just wanted to have a little fun,” Dex said, as if he’d read her mind. “Being new to the household, she probably got stuck with all the weekends and the worst of the chores. Missing her date was probably the last straw.”

  “So she kidnapped an eight-month-old baby?”

  “She claimed that wasn’t her intention. She wanted to go to the party so badly she convinced herself she could take Eugenia with her and nothing would go wrong.”

  “Easy to say that all these years later.” Maggie got to her feet and stretched, trying to ease the kinks out of her back. “How much of the story do you think is whitewash?”

  “She’s not around to ask, so we’ll never know what her actual intentions were. What we do know is that she boarded the Perdition with Eugenia, then at some point during the evening she moved from the Perdition to one of the other ships moored alongside.”

  “And she left Eugenia behind?”

  “This is where it gets interesting.”

  Dex rose, too, stretched much as Maggie had done, and brought that simmering lust she’d only managed to bury back to buzzing life. Maggie turned her back, wandered to the window, trying not to remember how it felt to have his hands on her. Dex, however, didn’t seem to be having any trouble focusing on Eugenia’s mystery, and that made it easier for her to put it aside. Keeping her distance from him helped.

  “Sonja claimed to have met a man named Giff from a nearby island,” Dex continued.

  “Windfall isn’t the only island hereabouts.”

  “But you know the name.”

  Maggie rubbed at the gooseflesh on her arms. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

  “He was the one who shuttled her from the Perdition to the other ship. He told her he wanted to dance with her, so, thinking they were going to be around for a while, she left Eugenia on their smaller boat because she thought the baby would be safe there until she could come back for her.”

  “Meaning Eugenia wouldn’t have been on board when the Perdition blew up.”

  “Meaning.”

  Maggie thought about that for a second. “Just Giff, huh? There are Giffords on Windfall Island, but it’s a pretty common name.”

  “How many of them ran liquor during Prohibition?”

  “Don’t know,” Maggie said, turning to face Dex now. “It wouldn’t have been that unusual along the coast.”

  Dex sat, pulled the papers he’d been reading back in front of him. “I don’t know about you, but a guy named Giff doesn’t sound like a journal-keeper.”

  “We won’t know until we go through them all, but at this rate it’s going to take a lot of time, and even if we find something from the right year, I wouldn’t believe everything you read in these. But you already knew that, even with the nanny’s story.”

  “It’s just a story, and you pointed out yourself she probably adjusted it to make herself look innocent.”

  Maggie sat down, huffed out a breath. “So what else do you want from me?”

  “I need to talk to people on the island, see what kind of oral lore there is.”

  Oral lore. Jesus, how he talked. It was just one more thing that set him off from everything and everyone she knew. “I wouldn’t believe everything you hear, either. Folks around here have been embellishing the truth longer than status has been a symbol.”

  “That’s a long time,” Dex agreed. “It’s always tricky to separate truth from fiction, but there will be truth in there somewhere.”

  She sighed. “I’d tell you to have fun.”

  “But you know I won’t get anything asking questions by myself.”

  She wanted to refuse, but she knew he was right. People would relax with her around. She’d get information they’d never give to Dex; as much as he might have wormed his way into some level of acceptance, he was still an outsider.

  “Have dinner with me tonight, Maggie.”

  “No.”

  “If they think we’re dating—”

  “If they think we’re dating the only stories you’ll hear will be about me, and that won’t get you anywhere.” But the real problem wasn’t what other people would think; it was how it would feel to her.

  “It would be entertaining. And enlightening.”

  And she had her own secrets to keep. “I’ll help you pick brains. I won’t lie any more than I have to.”

  Dex leaned forward, cupped the back of her neck, and laid his lips on hers. He wasn’t gentle this time, but gentle wasn’t what Maggie wanted. So, when he nipped at her bottom lip, she dove into the kiss, fisted her hand in his shirt and gave in to the desire that had only grown since she’d discovered the incredible heat and amazing pleasure they could find in each other’s bodies.

  This time it was Dex who pulled back, Dex who was breathing hard and looking shell-shocked. His eyes met hers, clearing enough for speculation to light his gaze.

  “You’ll sleep with me, but you won’t date me.”

  “That’s just chemistry, Dex.”

  “Chemistry isn’t a bad foundation.”

  Maggie bumped up a shoulder, the gesture far too casual for what she felt. “We’re not building a house.”

  “We’re building a case.”

  “That has nothing to do with me,” she reminded him—and herself, the truth of it bleak enough to help her settle the rest of the way. Dex wanted to solve his case; if she meant anything to him apart from the physical, it was as a means to an end.

  “So… no to dinner.”

  “No to dating. But if you happen to be having dinner at the Horizon tomorrow night, you just might run into me there.” She went into the kitchen, came back with a key ring she’d taken from the pegs by the back door, and flipped it to him.

  Dex snagged the ring out of the air and looked at the fob. “These keys belong to a Jaguar.”

  “XK120 Roadster, to be exact. ’54.”

  His eyes shot to hers, and Maggie had the pleasure of knowing she’d truly surprised him.

  “I’m restoring it. The mechanical work is done. The car runs like a top, but it’s not all that pretty to look at right now.”

  “And you’re just going to let me borrow it,” he said, still staring at the keys as if he thought they’d disappear like smoke if he took his eyes off them.

  Maggie arched a brow, leaned against the doorjamb. “I’ll give you a good rental price, anyway.”

  That made him grin—like a fool, sure—but at least he was himself again. “Kind of mercenary, aren’t you?”

  She bumped up that shoulder. “I’m not the one who’s getting paid a daily rate.”

  “Touché. I guess I should be grateful you’re not charging me for the help.”

  “Well,” she said, “I can think of a way for you to repay me.” She pushed away from the doorjamb. “If you’re not in a hurry.”

  “I’m in a big hurry, all of a sudden, but it has nothing to do with trying out the Jag.”

  Dex reached for her, but she stepped back. He’d been in control before, and she’d been helpless under his hands, his mouth, to do anything but surrender. There’d been no complaints; how could there have been considering the outcome? But it had left her feeling vaguely concerned, and while Dex had done and said nothing to make her think he considered her surrender a weakness, it didn’t take words and actions to make her worry.

  She was testing him—testing them both—but she needed to put her fears to rest.

  Dex saw the intent in Maggie’s eyes
, the heat and need. The aggression. She wanted control, and he was a man who, under certain circumstances, could go with the flow. All of those circumstances involved him getting what he wanted. The occasion certainly fit the bill.

  Maggie surprised him, though. He expected her to go for the fast, sweaty thrill, an encore to what they’d brought each other before. He wanted that, wanted a steep, insane roller coaster ride with dizzying ups and downs that left no room for thoughts or concerns. He wanted to feel her pulse scramble when he put his hands on her, feel his mind fuzz when she put hers on him. He wanted that mindless, breathless second in time where pleasure was all that mattered, and the pleasure they brought to each other was nearly too intense to bear.

  Instead, she stepped forward, almost hesitantly, and kissed him. Just a touch of her lips to his, all it took to blur his mind and make him want to take it slowly, to savor and enjoy every second of the time she spent in his arms.

  And then she speared her hands into his hair, lifted onto her toes, and took. Took his mouth, stole his mind, and shot his body into a need so great it nearly buckled his knees. She took his shirt by the hem and whipped it over his head, then put her mouth on him again while her hands slipped down over his stomach.

  She popped the snap at his waist, unzipped his pants, and shoved them down, then took him, hard and aching, into her hand. Her mouth slid down to his neck, then lower, nibbling, nipping down his ribs.

  “Don’t, God, Maggie,” he groaned, and when she didn’t stop, he jammed his hands under her armpits and hauled her upright.

  She laughed, a sound of pure, feminine power, and stepped back, stripping off her shirt and pants. She wore serviceable white cotton beneath her clothes, the bra skimming across the swell of her breasts, the panties riding low across her belly, high on her hips.

  He reached for her, but she stepped back, just one step while she reached behind her back and undid the bra, slipping it off without a hint of self-consciousness. Her panties went the same way and were set carefully aside with the bra before she turned back to him. “I’m afraid we’re not going to make it to the bedroom,” she said.

  Dex was afraid he wouldn’t make it to the floor. All he could do was stand there, mouth dry, pulse hammering, holding onto control with a death grip as Maggie pulled him down, straddled him, took him in. Her body clamped around him, a wet, velvet fist. She rose over him, slim as a willow branch, strong as steel. She began to move and the world narrowed down with her at the center, her eyes blue flames that trapped him in a prison of heat and friction, of pleasure rising, building, coalescing to a hot, aching ball of desperation.

  He lifted, took her breast into his mouth and heard her breath catch, felt her heart stutter then race. She slowed, lifting and then grinding down on him in measured strokes, every slide of her body around him a study in torture he didn’t want to end. He wrapped his hands around her narrow ribcage and feasted, loving the taste of her skin, the texture and firmness of her flesh. Her every sigh spurred him, her breathless moans were like music. And her pace was driving him mad.

  He slid his hands down to take her hips, met her thrust for thrust as she rose over him again, slim and lovely in the pale lamplight. He felt control slipping away again, felt his body tightening, and decided he’d be damned if she shoved him over the edge without her.

  He used his hands, his mouth, ruthlessly, just as ruthlessly holding himself back until he heard her breath sob in and out, felt her tighten around him like a vise. Until her body bowed back and he felt that first wave of pleasure rip through her.

  Then he let go, let ecstasy blast through him, cradling her as they fell, endlessly, shattered. And held her as they came back again, whole, but changed, irrevocably. For the better? he wondered as his breath tore in and out of his lungs, as his heart raced and stuttered in his chest.

  Maggie, slumped into a heap over him, stirred, mumbling grumpily when Dex tried to shift her aside. “You’re so warm and comfortable.”

  “The floor is cold and hard,” he said. “Much as I’m enjoying the cuddle, Maggie—”

  She shot upright and slipped away from him. The look on her face would have pissed him off if he hadn’t been so damned tired of seeing her shy away from any soft emotion where he was concerned.

  Dex rolled to his side, hissing a bit on the cold floor. It took a couple minutes before he could find the energy to climb to his feet, and then he just stood there, waiting until his breathing and heartbeat calmed, before he pulled Maggie to her feet.

  She stumbled a bit; it gave him back a little of the self-respect he’d lost at being so destroyed by her. Sweeping her into his arms took him the rest of the way—he was even able to laugh a little when his legs weren’t as steady as he wanted them to be. But he had enough strength to hold her tight when she tried to push out of his arms.

  “Don’t be a coward,” he said rustily, nipping the side of her neck because it was right there, handy.

  Maggie huffed out a laugh, braced her hand on the wall as he carried her up the stairs. “My legs work perfectly well,” she said, although she wasn’t trying to use them, he noticed. “And why in the world would I be afraid of you?”

  “Not me—well, not directly. Your feelings for me.”

  She slanted him a look. “I have no feelings for you—okay, at the moment there’s gratitude, but not the kind of feelings you’re talking about.”

  Dex dropped her unceremoniously on the bed. “But you could have.”

  Maggie rolled to her back and looked him straight in the eye. “What about you?”

  “You’re afraid of my feelings? You think I’m going to fall in love with you.” It wasn’t a question, any more than he asked her opinion when he slid into bed with her. “Now whose ego is kicking up?”

  She didn’t laugh. “I’ll only hurt you.”

  She could, he thought, so it was a good thing he’d decided not to fall in love with her. “We both know the score here, Maggie. Spending a night in the same bed won’t change it. But I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  She gave it a beat, that split second feeling like a lifetime before she shrugged and settled onto her side. She pulled his arm around her waist and relaxed back against him with a little sigh.

  Her breath evened out almost immediately, her body going lax and pliant as she fell into sleep—and left Dex awake and wondering who she was really warning, and what it meant that the idea of Maggie having feelings for him—soft feelings—should leave him so…

  Lost in the confusing and unfamiliar maze of his own emotions, Dex drifted off, warm and content.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maggie was gone when Dex got downstairs and wandered into a kitchen scented with coffee, although the pot was empty and clean. The keys he’d dropped in the dining room were on the counter, along with a note written in bold, slashing strokes that read, I figure you for a late riser. All those long nights doing cheating spouse work. There’s coffee in the thermos, pop tarts in the cupboard, and gas in the car. Help yourself to all of the above. No charge for the lodging or the continental breakfast.

  She was kicking him out, Dex decided, but the way she handled it was so quintessentially Maggie it brought a smile to his face. He pocketed the keys, hooked the thermos, grabbed a foil packet, and, still grinning, headed into the dining room.

  He’d intended to work a few hours, cut his way through some of the paperwork he’d already decided would yield little usable information. But if having Maggie close by was a distraction, not having her there was an even bigger one. Her absence made it nearly impossible for him to think of anything else.

  Maggie shooting him daggers every time he brushed against her. Maggie with the quick wit and the smart mouth. Maggie with that sulky expression and irresistibly sexy body. Maggie taking him, emptying him out, then filling him back up. With her.

  He looked at his watch again for what had to be the dozenth time. And then he realized he was waiting for her to get home.

  Home.
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br />   It was a like a fist to the gut—not the word, the feeling behind it. He’d grown up with parents who loved him and his brother and sister, and who had so much love between them it had always been clear they were the center of each other’s world. His parents had built a life based on that love, brought their children into that world, and made it clear that they were meant to go out, someday, and make a world of their own with someone they loved.

  They’d set a damned high bar, Dex could see now. They’d given him a foundation that demanded one hell of a structure be built on it. And he would, someday, when he could ask a woman to build a home with him without having to worry about the day he might be carried back to that home in a coffin. His sister had faced that day, lost the man she loved, the father of her two small children, to a drug dealer’s bullet. Dex had watched in awe as she bore the heartache and fought to rebuild her little family from that kind of staggering loss.

  The search for Eugenia Stanhope might not be dangerous, but the next job could be, or the one after that. There’d be no home for him, he’d vowed, until he could walk through the door with a clear conscience and an open heart.

  He looked around this house where he’d spent a single night of his life, and understood how easy it would be to second-guess that vow.

  But Jesus, he thought, he’d be a fool to fall in love with a solitary, contrary woman like Maggie Solomon. There were a million small reasons, and one huge one: she’d never love him back.

  Those gold wings were tattooed over her heart for a reason, and only an idiot could have seen her with her father and not understood that reason. Phillip Ashworth Solomon had used love as a hammer against his only daughter, and the blows she’d taken had left her closed off, damaged.

  Afraid.

  He pushed to his feet, walked out of that house with the banister made for sliding, the wide-open spaces he could so easily see strewn with toys, those big windows overlooking the generous back yard with its little beach off to one side and the dock perfect for a sailboat. The whole place was kid paradise.

  It made him itchy—hell, it made him sad to know Maggie would have laughed her ass off over the notion of committing to anyone long enough for even the idea of children to become a part of the relationship landscape. But he could see it all. More, he could feel it, the way it would be to make a life here, to make a family. To go to bed each night and wake up each morning on the shores of Temptation Bay…