by Carol Grace
Mandy rolled down her window and let the ocean breeze cool her cheeks. "Maybe we should start all over. Define the rules. Restate the situation," she suggested, proud of how steady her voice was when she could still feel the muscles of his thigh against her palm.
"Fair enough." His tone was light. He was enjoying teasing her, seeing how far she'd go. Well, she wasn't going any further than this, not until she knew more about this mystery man.
"The way I see it," he continued, making a left turn at the sign for the historic town of Half Moon Bay, "is that you're the best thing that ever happened to a bed and breakfast. You've entertained me, enlightened me and served me the most fantastic breakfast in bed I've ever had. So far," he added with a gleam in his eye she couldn't ignore, a gleam that suggested other ideas for breakfasts in bed that made her head spin. "And now," he continued, "you're showing me around. I don't know how I can pay you back, do you?"
Mandy ignored the loaded question and pointed to a parking space behind the junior high school. She was beginning to regret she'd asked him to restate the rules. No matter what she said, it led to another suggestion on his part that was loaded with double, even triple meanings that she didn't dare contemplate. Only she was contemplating them so much so that she stumbled over a brick on Main Street. He caught her hand and held it tightly as they wove through the throngs of people engaged in pumpkin-pie-eating contests, pumpkin carving and face painting.
"Want your face painted?" he asked as they watched a beautiful blue star being painted on the cheek of a little girl.
"Isn't it just for kids?" Mandy asked, aware of his warm fingers against hot palm, aware that she could pull away from him but didn't.
He shook his head and when the painter finished with the child, he sat Mandy down on the stool and suggested the "princess look" with sparkles around her blue eyes and a beauty mark next to the dimple in her cheek.
She didn't need paint to look like a princess, Adam thought, watching the artist at work, but good God, she was beautiful with her lips red and full, her eyes highlighted with blue, glitter sprinkled over her cheeks. She looked up at him questioningly, her painted lashes making shadows on her cheeks.
"Nice," he said, in the understatement of the year.
"Your turn," she said, vacating the stool.
"Oh, no," he protested. "That’s kid stuff."
The dimple flashed in her cheek as she placed her hands on his shoulders and firmly pushed him onto the stool in front of the artist.
"I think a pirate look would be appropriate," she told the painter, who proceeded to draw a patch around one eye and a roguish mustache above Adam's upper lip. He sent Mandy a baleful look.
"Fair's fair," she told him cheerfully. But already she regretted making him look any more attractive than he already was. Not only did he look dashing, he looked downright lecherous as a pirate. They paid the artist and continued to wend their way past balloon booths, pumpkin ice cream, and T-shirts, unaware of the admiring glances of passersby.
"I must look ridiculous," he muttered as three teenage girls giggled and swiveled their heads in his direction.
"You don't look ridiculous," she assured him. "You look... dangerous."
He stopped in the middle of the blocked-off street, oblivious to the people who milled around them.
"I'm not dangerous," he said, allowing the crowd to push him so close to her he could see the flecks of green in her blue eyes. "I'm hungry."
And before she could answer, his lips were on hers, quick and urgent and hungry, while the throngs milled around him. He kissed her once and then again and again until she was breathless and weak in the knees. Dazed, she pulled back and looked around, but no one noticed them. No one cared that a one-eyed pirate and a princess were locked in a passionate embrace on Main Street. No one but Adam, who looked a little dazed himself and more than a little self-satisfied.
"I've been wanting to do that since I got here," he said.
Mandy took a deep breath. "If you're still hungry," she suggested, "we could pick up some fish and chips down by the water."
Adam grinned at her, took her hand and they walked down to the breakwater to buy their food and eat on top of the rocks.
Adam felt the spray from the waves smashing against the rocks below, and watched Mandy out of the corner of his eye. It was a good thing Jack hadn't happened along Main Street that morning, Adam thought, a wave of guilt threatening him more than the waves below. Jack wouldn't want Adam to go this far in his research. Her kissing ability was not in question. If it was, he'd have to recommend Mandy for her soft lips and the promise of passion just lurking below the surface.
Jack would definitely not approve of the turn the investigation was taking. Adam knew that, and yet he couldn't seem to stop. The more he discovered what Mandy was like, the more he desired her. Yes, he had to admit it, she'd exceeded his expectations. He knew from her letters she was bright and funny, but he hadn't known she was sexy as hell. But he had a duty to leave her alone because she wasn't his and never would be. She belonged to Jack, or so Jack thought. What did Mandy think? He leaned back against a boulder and looked out to the horizon.
"You said you weren't married," he began.
She threw a handful of crumbs to the gulls hovering overhead, waiting for a handout. "So?" she inquired, tilting her head in his direction.
"So I was wondering if there's anyone special, anyone I should know about." He trailed off. It would serve him right if she told him it was none of his business. "Never mind," he said abruptly. "It's none of my business." He didn't want to hear her say, "Yes, there's this guy in the Yukon, the one I mentioned, sensitive, kind, honest. His name is Jack Larue." He didn't want to hear about Jack. But he had to think about him. Jack was his best friend and this was the woman his best friend was going to marry. Maybe.
Mandy stood and held out her hand to him. He took it and pulled himself up next to her.
"Sometimes," she said, drawing her eyebrows together, "I don't understand you."
"Sometimes I don't understand myself," he admitted, brushing a crumb off the corner of her mouth. A cloud of glitter from her cheek dusted his hand. Was that all he was going to get out of this deal? While Jack got the gold, he got the glitter? Well, what did he expect, that Mandy would fall into his arms and throw away the opportunity to marry a millionaire? Not a chance. She was still looking at him, her blue eyes wide and expectant, waiting for him to make the next move.
"We'd better head back," he said gruffly.
Her eyes widened and he hated himself for bringing their day to an abrupt halt. But it was better to do it now than later. Because sooner or later she'd find out who he was and she'd hate him for lying to her.
"Of course," she said stiffly, pulling her hand from his. "I've got work to do. And who knows, maybe some more guests?" She forced a cheerful smile and led the way back to the car, along the sand and around the edge of town and back to the street. Stuck on the windshield of the rented Toyota was a flyer for the Winchester Mystery House's flashlight tour. A Halloween Special.
"Ever been there?" Adam asked, opening the car door for her.
"Not, but I know the story. Mrs. Winchester was the heiress to the Winchester rifle fortune. She believed she'd die if she ever quit building on to her house. The rooms go on and on. They say they're haunted."
"Afraid to go there?" he asked.
"Of course not. Are you?"
He backed the car out of the lot. "I'm not afraid of anything." Except women, he wanted to say. I'm afraid of getting involved with them, afraid of hurting and getting hurt. Afraid of you, Mandy, especially you. "Except the dark," he added with a smile. "I'm afraid of being alone in the dark."
He felt her eyes on him. "You wouldn't be alone. I'd be with you."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he confessed. He wasn't sure he could handle any more aloneness with Mandy, especially in the dark. Not in his present capacity as friend of the groom. "Anyway, I've got to get back and make some
calls, okay?"
"Of course." Mandy's head was swimming. She could have sworn he was going to take her to the haunted house, and for some strange reason she had wanted to go, to hold his hand as they stumbled in the dark from room to room. But here they were on their way home already. How could she have misunderstood? Unless Adam was deliberately leading her on. Maybe he couldn't help it. Maybe he was subject to violent mood swings caused by all those seismic blasts he'd experienced in the Yukon.
Jack, on the other hand, was as steady as a rock. She folded her arms across her seat belt. Maybe every other man would look flaky next to Jack. Maybe Jack wasn't as good- looking as Adam. No one was. But give her a dependable, down-to-earth guy any day. One who would keep his word, who wouldn't promise what he couldn't deliver, who was interested in making a commitment. Who was, in fact, actively pursuing marriage as a goal. That was what she was looking for. Wasn't it strange she'd found him in the pages of Yukon Man ?
Chapter Four
Adam parked the car in the circular drive in front of the Miramar Inn, and Mandy jumped out and reached her hand into the steel gray mailbox. She drew out a batch of bills and one long blue airmail envelope with a Canadian postmark. Her heart skipped a beat. She fumbled for her keys until Adam took them out of her hand and unlocked the front door. She looked up to thank him, but he wasn't looking at her, he was staring at the letter in her hand.
"I recognize the stamps," he explained, his brow furrowed. "Would that be from your friend, Jack What's-his-name?"
"Larue," she said absently, tossing her purse in the direction of her desk, then sinking onto the couch and ripping open the envelope. She glanced up. Adam was standing in the middle of the room looking down at her intently. Holding the blue stationery tightly between her fingers, she paused.
She didn't want company while she read Jack's letter. Not even Adam. Especially not Adam. He wasn't one of those people you could ignore. When he was around, you knew it They exchanged a long glance.
"Yes?" she said finally.
"Aren't you going to check your answering machine?" he asked.
"I'm going to read my letter first," she said firmly.
"Okay." He took the chair opposite her, across from the fireplace. "I'll just hang out for a while."
Mandy frowned at him, annoyed at the way he'd settled in as if he were there to stay. Just when she wanted to be alone. Alone with Jack's letter. She could go into her room, of course, but she always read Jack's letters here in the living room where she could imagine sharing a glass of wine with him in front of a blazing fire. She knew it was silly. He'd never said anything about coming down to see her, but he'd often said he didn't want to spend his life in the Yukon. Unlike Adam, who wanted to get farther away from people, Jack was so gregarious, so outgoing. Too outgoing to spend his life in the frozen North with only bears for company.
She tucked her legs under her and tried to ignore the presence of the man seated across from her.
"Dear Mandy," the letter began. "The nights grow long now that it’s October-"
"Good news?" Adam interrupted.
She glared at him. "I'm only on the first sentence. Do you mind?"
"Mind? Of course not. Go ahead."
"Thank you." Mandy sank farther into the recesses of the couch, finally able to put aside the memory of Adam and the pumpkin festival until he spoke again.
"Is there anything you want me to explain, any expressions you don't understand?" he inquired, getting to his feet and standing in front of the fireplace.
Mandy tore her eyes reluctantly from the letter and looked up at him. "No. Thank you. He speaks English, you know. Almost as well as you do."
Adam pressed his lips together and nodded thoughtfully. "Glad to hear it. I just thought there might be some Canadian slang or something I could help you with."
"He doesn't use slang," she explained very carefully. In about one minute she was going to tell Adam to either leave the room or shut up. Though it wasn't really recommended that hostesses tell their guests to shut up or go to their room, she'd reached the end of her rope.
"What does he use?" Adam asked, bracing one elbow against the mantel.
Mandy rubbed her hands and a shower of glitter landed in her lap. "I think I'll take a shower," she said in a tone of resignation. "You're right, this stuff gets all over everything."
He nodded. "I told you."
She sailed past him, sweater in one hand, the letter in the other, went into her bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her. She tossed the sweater onto the chair and the letter into the middle of her queen-size bed, then stripped her clothes off and entered the bathroom. She turned on the shower. Adam was the strangest person she'd ever met. Sometimes he seemed eager to get away from her, other times, like just now, he wouldn't leave her alone for a minute. Maybe everyone who went to the Yukon was peculiar in some way? Everyone but Jack, that is. Either they went to the Yukon because they were unusual, or they became that way after they'd been there awhile.
Above the noise of the shower, she heard someone knocking on her door and calling her name. She turned the spigot off and wrapped a towel around her. At her bedroom door, she paused. "Yes?"
"Mandy," Adam said. "Telephone."
She opened the door and he handed her the portable phone. He'd changed. He'd showered. He looked dean and gorgeous, his dark hair damp and thick. She gripped her towel tightly around her chest with her other hand.
"Thank you."
He nodded. "Wait a minute. You missed a few places." He took a cl ean white handkerchief out of his pocket and ran it over her cheek to remove the last traces of face paint. His touch was so unexpected, so intimate, that she shivered. Then he used the square of white cotton to blot her lips. She trembled. She tried to tell him to stop, but she couldn't speak. She tried to back away into her room, but she couldn't make her legs work. So she closed her eyes and gave in to the delicious sensations leaping from her lips to her brain and back again. The next thing she knew he was trailing his lips to the hollow of her neck, where her pulse throbbed.
She gave a ragged sigh, oblivious to the telephone receiver she was still clutching with one hand. When he ran one finger along the top of her towel, her eyes flew open and she saw he was looking at her with a devilish grin.
"It's your sister," he said with a glance at the telephone. "Tell her I said hello." And with that he closed the door behind him.
Mandy stumbled backward onto her bed and landed on her back, breathing hard.
"It's about time," Laurie complained. "Where were you, upstairs? You're panting."
Mandy took a deep breath. "No, I'm not."
"Who answered the phone?"
"A guest."
"Is he as sexy as be sounds?"
Mandy flopped over on her stomach and buried her face in the quilt. If Laurie only knew, she'd fly home immediately. Which was not a good idea. She would throw herself at Adam or she would throw Mandy at him. Either way would be a disaster.
Mandy raised her head and got her breathing under control. "So-so," she said at last.
"Is he there with his wife or anything?"
"He has no wife. I don't know about the anything. Probably not, since he lives in the Yukon." Mandy bit her lip and changed the subject. "How was your flight?" she asked.
"The Yukon?" Laurie asked, ignoring the question. "Isn't that a coincidence?"
"Not really. I advertise in Yukon Man, remember? At your suggestion, I might add. That's where he read about the inn."
"So it’s just the two of you alone in the house?" Laurie continued.
"Not at all. In fact, I was full last night."
"And tonight?"
"Well, I..."
It may have been fate, or maybe providence, but at that moment there was another knock on her bedroom door.
"Mandy, come on out. There are some people here looking for a room."
"Did you hear that?" Mandy asked Laurie. "More guests. Talk to you later." Mandy threw on her hos
tess outfit again, ran a comb through her wet hair, left her face the way it was, and hurried into the living room.
There was Adam leaning against the fireplace mantel in a navy blue sweater and gray slacks as if he belonged there, entertaining a young couple with some story about an oil strike in the Middle East.
On second glance they didn't look entertained at all, they looked completely engrossed in each other. In fact, they scarcely looked up when Adam introduced her to them.
"Mandy, this is Jane and her, uh, Ben. They've pretty much decided to take the room. Special weekday rate I quoted them. I was just going to carry their luggage in, but they don't have any." He gave her a quizzical look, followed by a knowing grin.
"Oh, fine," Mandy gasped. "Would you like to sign the register?" she asked, turning on the lamp over the desk.
Jane tore her adoring gaze from Ben for a brief moment, but kept her arm around his waist, her hip firmly wedged against his. "Could we do it later?" she asked. "We've been on the road for hours and we're anxious to relax. Your husband was just going to show us the room."
Jane and her companion exchanged a long, hungry look that sizzled with so much sexual tension that Mandy had to look away. She meant to say that Adam wasn't her husband, but she didn't think they really cared. By the time she looked up again, Adam was halfway the stairs with Jane and Ben following close behind. And in another minute he was back in the living room.
"I'd say they got here just in the nick of time," Adam said, rubbing his hands together.
"Do you think they're married?" Mandy asked.
"No, but they think we are."
Mandy blushed. "It's a common mistake."
"Amen," Adam said with a wry twist of his lips.
"Was it that bad?" Mandy asked, perching on the arm of the chair.
"I wouldn't recommend it. It's a sure way to ruin a relationship. Take Jane and Ben there.'' He glanced toward the staircase, listening to the muffled laughter from somewhere upstairs. "If they were married, they'd be sitting here talking to us over sherry, and stuffing themselves with your delicious hors d'oeuvres, instead of, you know."