by JoAnn Ross
“It sounds as if he’d be, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Which is why, even if you do find him, you still need to find his pod.”
“Which is also easier said than done. Some have been tagged with satellite trackers, but since Orcas like to brush up against rocks and even temporarily beach themselves to keep their bodies smooth for easier swimming, those trackers tend to get brushed off.”
“Are you going out again on your boat tonight?”
“Yeah. But not for whale watching.”
He pulled up in front of the turreted, gingerbread-encrusted Victorian that harkened back to the days when Shelter Bay had catered to the rich and famous who’d traveled from as far away as Chicago and New York for the supposedly healing waters outside of town.
They’d had a short argument on the drive from Portland about her paying for the hotel room. Which he’d won when he’d assured her that since it was low season on the Oregon coast, the owners of the Whale Song, who just happened to be parents of three elementary school children, had comped the suite in return for her much-appreciated contribution to the science museum fund.
“My boat, the Sea Wolf, is in the holiday parade. It’s good public relations to get people more involved in supporting efforts to create a world where every whale and dolphin—and killer whales are, actually, the largest of the dolphins—is safe and free.”
“That’s quite an admirable goal.”
“One that’s going to take a united international effort. The guy who set up the institute funding my work currently has marine biologists working in thirty-one different countries. I’m just a small cog in the machine.”
“So you say. But I think it’s wonderful. And I already see a story possibility.”
“That would be great if you wrote something about it. You’re reaching more people than I ever could. Some days my work seems to be as much about preaching the message as it does research.”
“Thus tonight’s parade.”
“Yeah. The mayor got the idea last year, hoping it’d draw in tourists. I’m not sure it was all that successful bringing in any new money, but locals really enjoyed it, so it looks as if it’s now going to be an annual Shelter Bay tradition.”
“I always wanted to go to the one in Portland,” she said. A little wistfully, Adam thought. He’d attended several times with his family over the years. If she’d only said something back then, he could have taken her. And, he heard Sax and Dillon’s voices in his mind, maybe even gotten lucky.
“We don’t have nearly the number of boats as Portland. But you’re welcome to come with me.”
“On your boat? Really?”
“Sure. Though I have to warn you, it’s really cold out there at night.”
“I told you, I can handle cold. I love the idea.”
She wasn’t the only one. Still…
“Your body’s three hours ahead of Oregon,” he reminded her.
“True. What time’s the parade?”
“Six. But you know how time is relative in Shelter Bay.”
“That’s still only nine New York time,” she pointed out. “And thanks to that ginormous fish sampler, I won’t need dinner, so I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? That’ll make for a really long day.”
Damn. Why the hell did he keep warning her off? Hashtag Shut Up.
“I’m positive. Besides, I still have time for a nap.”
This time the unbidden image flashing on that high-def screen in Adam’s mind was of Meghann Quinn all warm and sleep-tousled in one of the inn’s antique beds. Working at not imagining tangling the sheets with her as he held the glass door open, he fell back on the old trick of focusing his brain on reciting prime numbers.
“I used to work here,” she murmured as they crossed the whitewashed pine floor.
“I remember.” She’d worked as a maid to earn money for college. Despite having earned a scholarship and participation in a work-study program, she’d still worked her tail off squirreling away money, which had always made him feel a little guilty for having had things so easy.
“But it was painted in dark Victorian colors with heavy furniture back then. These soft blue and sand hues make it so much more inviting,” she said. Since he’d already gotten the room key before leaving for Portland this morning, they were able to go straight to the old-fashioned cage elevator. “Funny. I used to imagine coming back and staying here someday.”
“I remember that being part of the plan once you became a rich and famous writer.”
“I know I sounded unbearably pretentious and schoolgirl silly, but—”
“I never found it silly at all,” he said as they rode up to the honeymoon suite on the top floor. “Most people have dreams. But you focused like a laser on making your dream a goal. And here you are, just where you once dreamed.”
On cue, the elevator opened directly into the suite painted in soft sea glass blues and greens. The timing was so perfect Meghann wouldn’t have been surprised by a flare of trumpets announcing her arrival.
She laughed softly as she walked over to a pair of French doors leading out onto a balcony that offered a dazzling view of the bay, sea, and the red-and-white striped Shelter Bay lighthouse.
“It’s different,” she said. “Not just the room but it feels so different being here as a guest, rather than dragging along a vacuum and a towering stack of fresh sheets and towels.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective. My family used to go sailing all the time.” Adam crossed the room to stand beside her. “I pretty much grew up on the water.”
He’d wanted to take her sailing that summer. He’d spent way too much time daydreaming about how she’d look in short shorts that would show off her legs, and a crop top, with her sunset-bright hair blowing free in the wind. He’d imagined how she’d taste with salt on her lips. And then, because he was a guy, he’d imagined casting anchor in some hidden cove and tasting a whole lot more.
But that would have been too much like a real date and he hadn’t had the balls to ask. Because if she’d turned him down, their friendship could’ve been at risk.
There was also the case that his parents had been very clear that the girl they’d hired to boost his English grade, a girl who didn’t even have a family to call her own, wasn’t anywhere near their social status. Small town strata, he’d discovered, was even more separated than the seas’ Paleozoic and Mesozoic Eras.
He wondered what they thought about Meghann now. Not that he cared. Hell, he hadn’t cared back then. At least for himself. But he’d known how frosty his mother could be and hadn’t wanted to risk Meghann getting hurt. Jill, with her warm and open heart, had immediately taken to Meghann. His sister had been the one to tell him about her first book, which had hit the New York Times list right out of the gate.
“Being out on the water for whales is a lot different from sailing,” he said, shaking off thoughts of opportunities missed. That was then. This was now. And if he had anything to say about it, this time things would be different.
She glanced up at him. “Is it less fun because it’s work?”
“More fun. Because I don’t take it for granted.”
“That’s nice. That we both ended up doing things that make us happy.”
“Yeah. It is.” The coconut scent of her shampoo reminded him of a tropical island. Which, in turn, had Adam imagining her wearing a grass skirt and doing the hula. Which just went to show that she wasn’t the only one with an active imagination.
His jeans were growing too tight. Just like high school. “I’d better be going.”
“I suppose so.” She didn’t sound any more eager to have him leave than he was to go.
“Okay.” He rocked back on his heels. “How about I come back in an hour?”
“That’ll work.”
“Unless you’d rather just watch the parade from here.” What are you doing? a voice shouted in his head. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
She looked up at him. �
�No. I’d rather be in the parade than watch it. If you’re absolutely certain it’s okay with you.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t meant it.” Adam blew out a breath before turning around and heading back toward the door. “I’ll take your suitcase into the bedroom.”
“I can manage. Really. You should go finish getting your boat ready.”
He glanced down at his watch, thinking of those last strings of lights that were still sitting on the deck waiting to be strung. “Okay. How about I pick you up at five thirty?”
“I’ll be ready.”
Having undoubtedly impressed her with how his conversational skills had improved since the last time they’d been together, he escaped before the last of what remained of his brain turned completely to mush.
“Well,” Meghann murmured after she shut the door behind him. “That could have gone better.”
They’d gotten along so well out on the plane when he’d been telling her all about his work. But then he’d seemed to have distanced himself. Maybe he’d only invited her along on the plane because he hadn’t wanted to waste the time of driving her to the inn? Perhaps she’d misinterpreted that look he’d given her in the airport, the one that a man gives a woman he’s sexually interested in?
But if that were the case, why had he turned around and invited her out onto the boat tonight? Maybe because he’d felt sorry for her being stuck here in the suite alone while everyone else in town was out enjoying themselves?
“There’s a reason you write YA,” she muttered as she rolled her suitcase into the bedroom, where the lacey white iron bed seemed to dominate the room even more than it had back when she’d been changing the sheets. “Your social skills when it comes to men, at least Adam Wayne, haven’t evolved past twelfth grade.”
Which was a dismal thought. But unfortunately true.
Dammit, she hadn’t flown all the way across the country just to hand out some books to raise money for a good cause. She’d come because, just like that Trisha Yearwood song, she’d lost Adam once. And dreamed about him. So many times over the intervening years.
She didn’t want to leave Shelter Bay without at least exploring the possibility that this time things could end up differently.
She’d just finished unpacking and had turned down the duvet when there was a knock on the door.
Expecting the maid, checking to see if she needed any more towels or pillows, Meghann was surprised to see Adam standing in the doorway, as if conjured up by her unruly mind.
“I forgot something.”
“Oh?” Maybe like asking her to the Snow Ball? “What?”
“This.”
Without waiting for an invitation, he came back into the suite, kicked the door shut behind him and slid his fingers in her hair.
His eyes darkened to the turbulent hue of a stormy sea, reaching back across their years apart to a time when she’d spent a summer drowning in those hooded gray depths. The difference was that back then, his gaze had been unfathomable. As mysterious as the sea they’d flown over this afternoon.
Now, as he looked down at her, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it, more serious than early in her tutoring when he’d suddenly realized that he might actually flunk English, which would keep him from graduation, more serious than it had been that last day they’d said goodbye for what seemed like the last time, and even more serious than earlier today when they’d been out looking for a possibly lost whale.
And thank you, God, as she read his intention written all over that handsome face in bold masculine script, she knew that just as they’d so often been, they were once again on exactly the same wavelength.
Meghann unconsciously parted her lips. Then drew in a breath, waiting as he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head.
7
She couldn’t help it. Just like one of the love-struck teens in her novels, her eyelids fluttered shut. Adam had told her that Orcas could hold their breaths while diving as long as twelve minutes. She was certain she was approaching that as he seemed determined to take his time.
And not in that hesitant, shy, geeky way he’d first kissed her beneath a night sky brilliant with summer constellations, but as a grown man very much aware of what he was doing.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”
She shuddered as he nipped an earlobe. “Since we landed at the dock?”
“Longer.” His lips skimmed along her jaw, up her cheek, to her temple while his fingers splayed low on her back, drawing her closer.
“Since the airport?”
“Longer.” His mouth finally moved back down to hers to suck at her lower lip as she wondered if it was, indeed, possible for a human being to melt.
Adam would know. He was, after all, a brainiac. A biologist. True, he studied marine mammals, but…
The only problem was that she couldn’t have asked him if she’d wanted to, because as he tugged her even closer against him, her brain fogged and words deserted her. They fit together perfectly, all her soft parts molding against his hard chest, thighs, and, wow, parts of her that had gone neglected far too long against the stony erection below his belt.
“From that first day,” he said in a deep, husky voice that vibrated through every cell in her body. “When you walked into homeroom.” He nipped at her chin and made her whimper with need. “It was like looking at the aurora borealis.”
“You never told me.” No man had ever compared her to those shimmering Northern Lights that occasionally appeared on a rare clear night on the Oregon Coast.
“I know. I should have. But you terrified me.”
The stunning idea that wallflower her could have terrified any boy was such a revelation, Meghann couldn’t have responded if she’d wanted to because finally (!!) his mouth claimed hers and he was kissing her long and hard, and she was holding tight to him, as if he were the only thing that could keep her from drowning.
And then, just as her mind was screaming at him to touch her, all over, and to take her now, he lifted his head, and as if not yet prepared to entirely let go, he put his hands on her waist as he took a step back.
“You need a nap.”
“I need you.” Relief that she hadn’t entirely lost the power of speech tangled with the throbbing ache of body parts that, if they could’ve acted on their own, would’ve thrown themselves at Adam, taken him down, and had their way with him. Right here and now, on the thick ivory carpet.
“It’s too soon.”
“You said you’ve wanted me since that first day,” she reminded him. She wasn’t certain if she sounded needy or slutty. Neither did she care.
“I did.” He kissed her again, and although it wasn’t as long, or as deep, it rocked her to the core. “I still do.”
“We’ve an hour until the boat parade,” she said silkily, channeling an inner seductress she hadn’t even realized had been lurking inside her as she splayed her hand on the front of his Shelter Bay Whale Research sweatshirt.
His laugh was rough, ragged, and, damn it, regretful.
Then he saved her from feeling like a total failure.
“Forty-five minutes,” he pointed out. “Which isn’t nearly time for all the things I want to do to you. With you.” He ran his hand down her side, from her breasts to her hips. “But after twelve long years of regretting letting you get away without seeing how we could have been together, I damn well want to do this right.”
“Wow.” She blew out a ragged breath. “Your prose skills have improved.”
“I had a good tutor.” His left hand moved to her back and pulled her close again. Conversation, especially about their relationship or sex, or worse yet, both in one sentence, would always cause her ex to deflate. Unsurprisingly, Adam was made of harder stuff—and no, that wasn’t entirely a metaphor—than her former husband. “And a sexy muse.”
Having had to “sell” herself to so many different foster parents over the years, Meghann knew both her strengths a
nd her flaws. Being sexy was definitely not one of her attributes. But the fact that Adam believed her to be had her almost believing it herself.
“I’ve got to leave,” he said, his tone letting her know it wasn’t his first choice.
“I know.” It wasn’t hers either. “They say patience is a virtue.”
“I’ve never known who they are.” He trailed his knuckles up her cheek. “But whoever they are, they obviously have no idea how I’m feeling right now.”
She could have him, Meghann realized. Right now. All it would take was a single word, a touch, and he’d bail on the boat parade in order to make love with her. She’d never, not once in her life, played the role of a seductress because, quite honestly, she’d never felt like one.
Her former husband had picked up on that insecurity the first day she’d shown up for his class. He’d used her need to be loved to control her in so many ways that it had taken her two years of marriage to realize that his manipulation wasn’t born out of his superior strength, as she’d mistakenly believed, but his innate weakness. He could only feel strong by making others feel less so.
Adam, who’d never been one for nuances, had told her straight out how he felt. He’d never been adept at playing social relationship games. Nor had she. Which had been another thing that had bonded them back when social success had been the coin of the high school realm.
A book nerd, a brainiac science guy, and a misplaced killer whale. She laughed as a tag line for their story flashed into her mind.
“You realize,” he said dryly, “laughing at a male in my situation can cause emotional and possibly even painful physical damage.”
“Poor Adam.” She went up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. “What if I promised to make it up to you later? After the parade?”
He pulled her closer again and gave her a slow, dreamy kiss that had her body humming.
“Take a nap,” he said as he pulled back way too soon. He ran his hand down her hair. “Because you’re going to need all your energy later.”