A Deadly Love

by Jannine Gallant

  She gave his arm a hard shake. “You’ll find her and Marnie before it’s too late. I truly believe that.”

  “You’re right. We all need to keep a positive attitude. Sorry I’m in such a foul mood.” He stopped at the edge of her driveway. When the bushes rustled next to him, his hand went to his holstered weapon.

  Brooke’s heart slammed against her chest. “It’s just Otis!”

  He watched the dog shake off damp leaves. “So it is. I’d better go. Goodnight, Brooke.”

  She stared after him as he walked toward his car, burying her fingers in the dog’s fur. After a long minute, she turned and headed into the house.

  ****

  “Is this it?” Dillon asked, hefting the overnight bag sitting by the front door.

  Brooke shrugged into her jacket, flipped up the faux fur collar, and smiled. “What can I say, I’m a light packer.”

  “Thank God. Gail used to travel with an unbelievable amount of crap. She said she couldn’t live without it, even for a weekend.”

  She followed him out onto the porch and pushed the dog through the door with her foot. “I’m sorry, Otis, but you have to stay home.” She shut the door and cringed when he howled from the other side.

  “Wow, for a dog, he knows how to play the guilt card.”

  “Most dogs do.” She laid a hand on his arm and felt the hard muscle twitch beneath the sleeve of his wool shirt. “You rarely mention your wife.”

  He shrugged. “Going to see her parents brings back memories, both good and bad. It’s not that her folks and I don’t get along, but seeing me is a painful reminder of their loss. If it weren’t for Zack, we would have severed ties years ago.”

  She waved at the boy leaning through the truck door. “I’m sure he means the world to them.”

  “You would think, but he’s nothing like Gail in temperament. She was calm and poised, and Zack is—”

  “Wild and crazy and delightful.”

  “Exactly. I’m just happy they make an effort, and he loves these visits because they bring him gifts.”

  “What six-year-old wouldn’t love that?”

  He laughed. “Good point.”

  The drive was never silent. Zack talked nonstop about the birdhouse he and Jesse were building, the litter of puppies his friend Brad’s dog had just produced, the stinky subtraction problems his teacher assigned for homework, and a list of possible presents his grandparents might bring him. By the time they reached Eureka, Brooke’s ears rang from the incessant chatter.

  Dillon stopped in front of a neatly kept bungalow with a vacation rental sign posted in the yard. A dark blue sedan with a rental car sticker on the bumper was parked in the driveway. He turned and smiled at his son. “Ready to go?”

  Eyes wide and luminous, he bit his trembling lower lip. “You’ll come get me tomorrow?”

  “You know I will.” He covered the boy’s hand and squeezed it. “Hey, you always have a great time with your grandparents.”

  Zack let out a long breath. “They plan fun stuff like going to the harbor to see the fishing boats. Once we went to the zoo.”

  “I remember. I’m sure they have something special in mind for this visit, too. You can tell us all about it tomorrow night.”

  After a pause, the boy nodded and opened the truck door. When Dillon unfastened his seatbelt, Brooke touched his sleeve. “Would it be best if I waited here?”

  “It’s been five years since Gail died. They know I have a life.”

  Her stomach lurched uncomfortably as she followed him up the walkway. His reasoning was logical, but she couldn’t help wondering if his in-laws felt the same way.

  The front door opened, and a man and woman stepped out. He was tall, thin, and balding, his shoulders slightly stooped beneath a brown cardigan sweater. The top of the woman’s short, silver hair barely reached his chin, and her figure was comfortably round in a pair of gray slacks and a silky green blouse. They greeted their grandson with shaking smiles and tentative hugs.

  Dillon clasped his father-in-law’s hand and dropped a brief kiss on his mother-in-law’s powdered cheek. He stepped back, planted his palm in the small of Brooke’s back, and urged her forward.

  “Howard, Maryanne, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Brooke Wakefield. I’m sure you remember her grandmother, my neighbor June Ransome.”

  “Of course we do. It’s nice to meet you, Brooke.” Howard’s grip was cool and firm when he shook her hand. His wife just smiled, her lips a tight line. “Please come in,” he said, holding the door wide.

  “We can’t stay,” Dillon answered, “but thank you.” He reached out and ruffled his son’s hair. “Promise you’ll behave.”

  Zack screwed up his face and huffed out a sigh. “I already said I would about a million times.”

  “How could I forget?”

  “You’re absent-minded sometimes.”

  Howard laughed and dropped a hand on his grandson’s shoulder. “That’s what happens when you get old.” His gaze rose and lingered on Brooke for a moment. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

  Dillon nodded. “Have a good time.”

  With a last smile at Zack, Brooke followed Dillon back to the truck. As they pulled away from the curb, Maryanne ushered the boy through the door and shut it behind him. She glanced over and noted the hard angle of Dillon’s jaw.

  “Is it difficult leaving him?”

  He let out a sigh. “It shouldn’t be. He spends the night with Jesse all the time, but this is different.” He shrugged. “I feel separated by more than just a few miles.”

  She squeezed his arm. “They seem like nice people.”

  “They are. He’ll be fine.” He smiled, a long, lazy look that heated his eyes. “The day is ours. What would you like to do?”

  She could only think of one thing. Her heart rate quickened, and her voice came out in a breathless quaver. “You choose.”

  “Lunch first. I suddenly have quite an appetite.”

  They ate at the Samoa Cookhouse, a historic, family style restaurant near the harbor. Dillon packed away soup, salad, bread, a platter full of chicken, and a huge wedge of apple pie. Brooke stared at him, her plate only half empty. “How can you move after eating all that?”

  He wiggled his brows. “I intend to work it off this afternoon.”

  Her cheeks heated, and she glanced sideways at the family occupying the other end of the table. They were engrossed in their own conversation.

  “We’d better get busy, then. You have at least a couple thousand calories to burn.”

  His eyes glowed. “Are you finished?”

  “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  He stood and pulled back her chair. At the front counter, he paid the bill, then ushered her through the door with a hand at the small of her back. “I booked a room at a bed and breakfast in Old Town. I hope that’s okay with you.”

  She paused to look up at him, squinting into the afternoon sun. “Sounds perfect. Maybe I can steal a few of their decorating ideas.”

  Stopping beside the passenger door of the truck, he tossed the keys from one hand to the other. “I’m not assuming anything, Brooke. We can get a second room if you want your own space.”

  She waited until he met her gaze to speak, his unexpected awkwardness putting her at ease. “I don’t.”

  A smile stretched slowly across his face, setting her heart thumping. “Good.” He opened the truck door. “It’s a little early, but maybe they’ll let us check in.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

  The drive to the bed and breakfast took only a few minutes. Dillon parked in a small lot adjacent to a pale pink Victorian house with white trim. After he hefted their bags from the back of the truck, she followed him up the brick walkway to a wraparound porch. Calico cushions accented white wicker furniture, and lace curtains hung in the windows. Charming and romantic were the words that sprang to mind as she opened the front door. He set their bags on t
he shining hardwood floor of the entry and smiled at her in a way that lit a fire low in her belly.

  Her pulse thrummed painfully. Taking a deep breath, she searched for an innocuous topic. “This place is lovely.” She nodded toward an antique table that held an old milk jug filled with an arrangement of daisies. “Very homey.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” With a hand at her waist, he guided her to the front desk tucked beneath a curving staircase and touched the silver bell resting on its top. A moment later a smiling woman with soft gray hair and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck hurried down the hall toward them.

  “Welcome. Welcome.”

  Her chirping voice and bobbing step reminded Brooke of a plump robin. She hid a grin as Dillon apologized for arriving early. He certainly didn’t look sorry when he jerked his wallet from his hip pocket.

  “Don’t worry about it another moment. Your room is ready, Mr. Tremayne,” she said, taking his credit card and sliding it through a machine. She pulled a brass key from a hook on the wall, and her gaze strayed toward Brooke’s bare left hand resting on the satin smooth desk top. “I hope you and your—companion will be most comfortable in the daffodil suite. Up the stairs, second door on the left. The room has a connecting bath and a view of the back garden.”

  Brooke stuffed her ringless hand in her jacket pocket and forced a smile. Judgmental old biddy. “It sounds lovely.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be just fine,” Dillon said over his shoulder as he strode across the entry to grab their bags.

  “Breakfast is served between seven and nine,” their hostess called.

  “Perfect,” he answered, already halfway up the stairs.

  Following close on his heels, Brooke covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold back her laughter. When she reached the upper hallway, she clutched her shaking sides. “Did you see the way her lips pursed up like she’d tasted something nasty? I bet she thinks we’re sex addicts.”

  “I could care less. Damn key, I can’t get it to—there it goes.” He pushed their bags through the open doorway with his foot, snagged her arm to pull her inside, and shut the door behind them with a resounding thud.

  She raised an eyebrow and gave him an innocent look. “Is there a reason for your haste?”

  Taking her in his arms, he kissed the side of her neck. She shivered, and her knees threatened to buckle. His hands strayed down her sides and cupped her bottom, pulling her tight against him. His breath stirred the hair at her ear. “Something came up. A quick exit seemed like the best solution to the problem.”

  Desire, hot and urgent, replaced levity as his mouth found hers in a kiss that left her shaking with need. Running her hands beneath his shirt, she caressed the warm skin stretched tight over muscled flesh, the ridges of his backbone, and the hard angles of his shoulder blades. Her fingers skimmed down his sides, and she felt his quaking response.

  He carried her to the four-poster bed, his arms tight around her hips. “You’re sure?” he whispered. “Last time—”

  She touched her fingertips to his lips. “Let’s concentrate on now.”

  “I want you so much I ache.” He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek with the pad of his thumb. His golden eyes seared an impression on her heart.

  She’d fallen for him, hard and fast, with little regard to the damage he could inflict emotionally. It was too late to turn back, too late to reinforce her protective walls. Her emotions were stripped bare, and she could only pray he’d treat them with care. Looking into his eyes, she didn’t question his desire, knew his regard for her was genuine. She wished she could be certain there was something deeper, something lasting behind it.

  Neither mentioned love.

  Holding tight to his warm, hard body, breathing in his scent, looking deep into his eyes and seeing her own longing reflected there, she pushed away her fear. She wouldn’t let doubt ruin the moment. She’d take what he offered and worry about the future later.

  Frown lines creased his forehead. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, stroking her hand across his smoothly shaven cheek. He turned his head and kissed her palm. Emotion clogged in her throat, leaving her mute.

  “You’re certain?”

  “Never surer,” she whispered.

  Seemingly reassured, he gently bit her bottom lip. She gasped and dug her fingers into his hair, tugging him down on top of her. They rolled together across the patchwork quilt, lips fused, hands working to find bare skin beneath layers of clothing.

  Dillon tossed her jacket over the edge of the bed and unbuttoned her shirt. His blunt fingers stroked across the skin of her stomach then cupped her breast through the lacy bra. Her breathing quickened as he pulled away the last barrier and lowered his mouth over one pink tip. A low moan escaped her lips, and she bucked beneath him.

  “God, Brooke.” He tugged her pants down over her hips, dragging her panties with them.

  Franticly she worked his shirt buttons free of their holes and pulled it off his shoulders. With trembling hands, she stroked the hard plains of his chest, letting the light dusting of hair tease her fingertips before going to work on the metal buttons of his jeans.

  His hand covered hers, and she looked up into glazed eyes.

  “Let me. If you keep touching me that way—”

  “I don’t care.” She thrust her hand into his boxers, cupping the hard length of him in her palm, feeling like she might shatter into a million pieces if he didn’t fill the aching emptiness inside her.

  He eased her hand away and kissed her, deep and drugging, taking the edge off her urgency. “I do care. I want to treasure you.”

  His hands were everywhere, stroking her hip, the soft skin of her inner thigh, whispering across her ankle and along the arch of her foot. She cried out, her fingers tightening in his hair when he finally found the sweet spot at her core. “Now, Dillon, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

  “I don’t think I could.” His eyes glittered as he sank into her, filling her heart and soul.

  Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pressed her face into his shoulder and held on as the feeling built past endurance. His shuddering release sent her reeling over the edge, and she couldn’t hold back a scream, raw and pure.

  The weight of him pressed her into the mattress, and the pounding of his heart echoed her own. Minutes passed before either moved. When he rolled to his back, he pulled her with him.

  Eyes tightly closed, her lips tasted the perspiration dampening his chest. “Please tell me I didn’t scream,” she mumbled. When he didn’t answer, she opened one eye and glanced upward. A silly grin stretched across his face.

  “It was a truly impressive scream.”

  She shuddered and hid her face against his side. “Oh God.”

  His chest shook with laughter. “Made me feel like a superstar.”

  “I’m glad you can joke about it. Our hostess will kick us out for disturbing the other guests!”

  He let out a long exhalation of breath and tightened his hold. “I hope not. I’m right where I want to be.”

  Warmth filled her, and her embarrassment eased. She loved this man so much she felt ready to burst with emotion. As she opened her mouth to let her feelings bubble out, he jerked upright. The color drained from his face.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t freaking believe it!”

  Sitting, she pulled the edge of the quilt across her breasts, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. “You’re scaring me, Dillon.”

  “I didn’t use a condom.” He buried his face in his hands. “I thought about it, and then you touched me...” His voice trailed off, and he moaned. “I can’t believe I forgot about protection like some irresponsible teenager. I’m so sorry.”

  She touched his arm and felt the muscle quiver. Her frantic heartbeat slowed. “It’s not the right time of the month for there to be a—a problem.”

  He raised his head and looked at her. “You’re sure?”


  The relief in his eyes tightened her throat. She wasn’t completely certain, but she nodded to ease his anxiety and spoke around the lump forming there. “Yeah. We were careless, but it isn’t going to turn into a lifetime commitment.”

  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, reaching for the boxer shorts draped across a pale yellow wingback chair. Her eyes followed his movements as he pulled them up his hard muscled thighs and covered himself. The silence between them stretched.

  Running his hand through his hair, he finally met her gaze. “Having a child isn’t something I take lightly.”

  “Me, either.” She stiffened her spine and turned her back to him, searching for her clothes. “I guess it’s a good thing we won’t have to worry about it.”

  Her hand shook as she fastened her bra. When he wrapped his arms around her and dropped her panties in her lap, she stilled.

  His lips nuzzled the side of her neck. “Are you angry with me?”

  She pulled away to ease the scrap of cotton and lace up her legs. “No.”

  “You sound pissed.”

  “I’m disappointed. There’s a difference.” She swung around and held up a hand. “I’m not trying to pressure you, but I thought you wanted to make this—this thing between us work? Your whole attitude suggests otherwise.”

  He frowned. “I do want it to work.”

  “But the thought of any kind of commitment still petrifies you.”

  He picked up his jeans and stared down at them. “I wouldn’t say petrifies. Maybe unnerves. God knows, a baby isn’t something I planned for my immediate future.”

  Stuffing her arms into the sleeves of her shirt, Brooke jerked the buttons through the holes. She wasn’t looking to get pregnant, so she didn’t know why his understandable anxiety upset her. But it did. “Relax. There won’t be any surprises this time. I’m ninety percent positive I’m not pregnant.”

  “That’s good.” He looked into her eyes. “Right?”

  She nodded and finished dressing before digging in her purse for a brush. Her voice was tight when she pulled it through her hair. “Let’s take a walk. I could use the fresh air.”