Passionate Kisses

by Various

  “Did we?” Sophie pretended to think about it. “Oh. At the restaurant?”

  “No. It was in the parking lot by Charles’s place. When I was talking to Lucas?” Shannon’s eyes darkened a little as she emphasized the final word.

  “Oh. Yes, I think I do. I’m sorry. I meet a lot of people.” Be. Nice. Invisible Lon showed up inside her head to remind her, but this time Sophie didn’t listen. She didn’t have to be nice to this woman. She’d broken Lucas’s heart. She deserved a little ice. “Is it Stephanie?”

  The redhead pressed her lips together. “Shannon. O’Brien.” She waggled her fingers at her friend. “And this is Rosie. We both went to school with Lucas. I moved back a few weeks ago. I’ll be teaching here in the fall.” She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to, Sophie thought. Message received from the recently-reappeared ex-girlfriend. Loud and clear.

  “Rosie’s running for the school board,” Shannon went on, though Sophie hadn’t asked. “One of the oldest members, Mattie Herlihy, had a stroke over the summer and had to step down.” She glanced at Lucas’s father. “We figured Rosie would be perfect on the board, don’t you think? I mean, Anthony’s in kindergarten, plus she’s been head of the PTO for two years now.” She stopped, presumably so someone could answer and tell her how brilliant she was, Sophie thought, but no one did.

  Rosie smiled and looked uncomfortable, Lucas’s father stared at the coffee table, and Katie nodded. “Thank you both for stopping by.”

  Sophie let her gaze skate over Shannon. Hadn’t this woman cheated on Lucas, broken his heart? Why were his parents giving her the time of day, school board election or not? They were better people than she would be, forgiving in the name of keeping small town peace.

  And of course there was Sarah. Even a newcomer didn’t have to be a genius to know how much she must have meant to all the Oakes, not only Lucas. Being nice to the surviving sister was probably the way people in Lindsey Point operated.

  Katie walked over and put one arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “Lucas called a little while ago. He’s at Francine’s. He told me to drive you over whenever you’re ready.”

  Her mood lifted marginally.

  “We’ll leave the information with you.” Shannon patted a folder in the center of the coffee table and stood. “The election is at the end of the summer.” Her gaze slid over Sophie before returning to Mrs. Oakes. “I really hope you’ll consider voting for Rosie. I’m behind her one hundred percent.”

  Lucas’s father stood and squeezed the hand she offered. “A-yep,” was all he said.

  The brunette bounced up and came over to Sophie. “It’s so nice to meet you. I heard about the show you’re doing on the lighthouse.”

  Sophie wondered what else she’d heard. Standing in the Oakes living room in her pajamas was bound to raise some eyebrows.

  “And I think it’s great,” Rosie went on. “I hope you have a wonderful time while you’re here. We love our little town.” Her infectious good mood made Sophie smile.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I do like it so far. All the people have been so welcoming.” The last word she aimed in Shannon’s direction. I slept here last night. His mother made me breakfast.

  “Bye, Katie,” Shannon said. “Michael. Nice to see you again.”

  “Goodbye, Shannon,” Katie said. “We’ll take a look at Rosie’s platform and talk to some of the other board members before we make a decision.”

  “Of course. And if you could put out some of those flyers down at the library, that would be terrific.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  Shannon opened the front door, Rosie bounced out behind her, and they were gone. Sophie let out a full breath for the first time in five minutes.

  “Ah, I’m Michael Oakes,” Lucas’s father said in the silence. He walked over to shake her hand. “Don’t know as we’ve been properly introduced.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He wasn’t as tall as Lucas, though he topped six feet. Still, she wondered where his son got all that height and brawn. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”

  “Ah, no problem at all. Lucas and Katie took care of everything.”

  That made her feel worse, emphasized the fact she’d arrived in the middle of the night when any other normal person was deep into dreams. “I still really appreciate it.”

  “I like your show, by the way,” he went on gruffly. “Try to watch it whenever I can.”

  “You do?”

  “A-yep. You been to some pretty interesting places, huh?”

  “I’ve been fortunate, yes. I love my job.”

  “Hope Lindsey Point doesn’t let you down. Not much more than a small town with an empty lighthouse.”

  But it was more than the average coastal town, Sophie thought. Sure, it had a ghost story. It had a haunted old building with a pretty twisted history. And it had the typical collection of small-town names and faces, a picturesque Main Street, and an ocean that lulled the town to sleep each night. But it also had a hell of a painful recent past. Crosses around town. Wreathed memorials that took the place of words because the loss was bigger than any letters or sentences strung together, at least if you asked someone like Lucas.

  Sophie glanced at both the Oakes. God, she wanted to ask them more about it. She wanted to do a story on it, wanted to know how you went on building a life when all the pieces around you shattered.

  “…surprised you?” Katie was saying.

  Sophie blinked. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. What did you say?” She looked down to find her fingers clutching her pant legs. “I was drifting.”

  Katie smiled. “I wondered if you were surprised by anything you found here. In your digging around, I mean?”

  For an instant, Sophie wondered why Katie was asking. Did she, like apparently everyone else around town, think Sophie was related to the Smiths? Or was she talking about something else? Or simply making polite conversation? “Not too much. It’s a pretty well-known story.”

  Katie nodded.

  “Tell you the truth, I was more surprised about the plane crash.”

  Silence. For a moment Sophie thought she’d overstepped her bounds.

  “Ah,” Katie said after a few seconds. “That’s not something most people talk too much about.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She glanced at Lucas’s father. “You knew them all, right? And you were close to some of them? The kids who died?”

  Michael Oakes nodded, his face closed. “It was a bad time.” He looked at his wife. “I’m sure Lucas has told you about it?”

  “A little.”

  “He had a difficult time dealing with it,” Katie said quietly. “Everyone did, of course, the town was devastated, but Lucas–“ She stopped.

  “He was close to all of them,” Sophie filled in. “Same age. Went to school with them, played football with one of the guys. And, yes, he told me about Sarah.”

  “She went in his place. Because he’d been hurt at practice.” Tears rose in Katie’s eyes but didn’t fall.

  Sophie waited.

  “So guilty,” Katie said. Her mouth turned downward. “For years it was all he talked about. How guilty he felt. How it was his fault. I finally got him to talk to a therapist.” She paused. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And I think it helped some. It’s gotten better with time. Though with it being the ten-year anniversary in a couple of months…” She trailed off.

  Lucas’s father cleared his throat. “Little bit harder for everyone this year,” he said. He ran one hand over his hair and left it sticking up in places. “Isn’t it, Katie?” Something in his voice changed. Grew harder. Colder.

  “Michael.” She frowned and shook her head. “Please. Not in front of a guest.”

  Tension filled the room in the span of a second. Sophie looked from one to the other. Nothing. Not another word. Katie sighed and looked at her lap. Michael turned and left, hands fisted tight against his thighs. A door at t
he back of the house banged open and shut. Sophie remained standing at the foot of the stairs, mind racing, waiting, but nothing more was coming.

  What the hell was going on here?

  Chapter 23

  Lucas stretched out his legs and resisted the urge to check his watch. If she showed, she showed. If she didn’t, she didn’t. Simple. Yeah, right. Like he hadn’t been thinking about Sophie non-stop since he’d left his parents’ house that morning.

  She’s a train wreck. She’s determined to kill herself.

  She’s sexy as hell, even with no makeup and her hair a mess.

  She never stops talking.

  She never stops snooping around.

  True, all true. But whether the good outweighed the absolutely maddening, he hadn’t decided yet. All he did know was it had taken every ounce of willpower not to peek in his parents’ guest room before leaving and wake her up with a kiss. Or two or three or ten.

  “Hello, princess.” Lon’s voice cut through the crew’s chatter. “Nice of you to join us.”

  Lucas turned to see Sophie standing in the doorway in her pajamas. Bedhead hair. Freshly scrubbed face. And nipples he could see right through the thin fabric of her pj’s, that he swore peaked a little in the chill of the air conditioned room. He looked away and counted to ten.

  “You do that again and I’m pulling the show,” Lon growled.

  “You don’t–” She began, but Lon didn’t let her finish.

  “Four years I’ve been dealing with this.” Lucas glanced up in time to see the producer’s face redden and his nostrils flare. “Four years of you doing whatever you damn well please, going out at night and sticking your nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

  Lucas stared at his boots.

  “I’ve gotten some pretty good stories that way.”

  “And almost killed yourself more times than I can count.”

  “I haven’t almost killed myself, Lon. Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “What’s with the ankle, huh?”

  “I twisted it.” Katie Oakes gave me a bandage to wrap it, she almost said before realizing she didn’t want to explain why she’d seen Lucas’s mom before eight in the morning. Instead she skipped over the details and kept her gaze away from Lucas. “But it’s nothing. I can totally move it and walk on it and everything.”

  “You couldn’t wait, could you?” Lon went on. “Had to go out ghost hunting in the middle of the night.”

  “I wasn’t ghost hunting. I saw a light and I thought it might be something worth looking into.”

  “I. Don’t. Care. What. You. Were. Doing!” he roared. “You put yourself in danger.” He spun around and pointed at Lucas. “Worse, you put him in danger. Is that what you want, a front page article about how we almost killed a local guy?”

  Lucas held up both hands. “No one almost got killed last night.” True, he’d been more than a little pissed at Sophie, but he doubted anyone was out to hurt her. Certainly not him. Here in Lindsey Point? No one was that cruel.

  Are you sure? A little voice whispered in the back of his mind. People could be surprising, true. Look at Shannon. “Hey, want some coffee?” he asked loudly. Shut up he willed the voice. He knew Sophie didn’t drink it, but he didn’t need doubt crawling around inside his head.

  She shook her head and kept her eyes on Lon. “You’re right. It was a dumb thing to do. Won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn straight it won’t.” After a long moment, the older man grabbed a notepad and slid his reading glasses onto his nose. “We spoke with Nellie Fortunado for about an hour this morning.” He took a moment to glare at Sophie, presumably to emphasize yet again how reckless she’d been, how she’d completely neglected her duties and should be strung up by her size sixes the moment they returned to New York.

  She slid into the chair beside Lucas and crossed her legs. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch her.

  “Gil’s printing out the transcript at the hotel right now. She didn’t remember too much about the deaths, unfortunately.” Lon scratched the back of his neck. “However, she did remember certain details about when Petey and Miranda were in school. Quite a lot of them, actually. Her daughter confirmed them.”

  “Like what?” Sophie asked.

  “Number one: they began dating in ninth grade. Inseparable for most of high school. Married the summer after they graduated. And, incidentally, shared the position of valedictorian at their high school graduation. Both gave a speech.”

  “Kind of charming,” Terrence said. “Makes it harder to understand how he would’ve turned around and killed her less than five years later.”

  Sophie shivered and Lucas stripped off the flannel shirt he’d been wearing over his black work t-shirt. “Here.” He draped it over her shoulders.

  She gave him a sideways smile that knocked him straight in the gut. “Thanks.”

  “Uh huh.” He resisted the urge to adjust the collar sitting crookedly along her neck.

  “Number two,” Lon continued. “They moved into the keeper’s house that fall. Petey Smith had worked there for years as a teenager. Apparently always wanted to hold the job. Once the previous keeper retired, the town offered it to Petey.”

  More than once, Lucas had wondered what made someone aspire to be a lighthouse keeper. The solitude of the life? The responsibility of the position, knowing it fell to that one person to keep ships safe in the night? Maybe the lull of the ocean, the sound of the waves rocking you to sleep each night.

  “Number three: Peterson Smith, Junior, was born about two years later. Nellie remembered seeing them around town with the baby in a stroller. Remembered how proud Petey was to have a son.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Which brings us to number four.”

  Lon paused. Terrence looked up from his iPad.

  At everyone’s silence Sophie glanced around the room. “So what’s number four?”

  Lon looked back at his notes, though Lucas doubted he needed to. “Number four is that, according to Nellie, quite a few people do recall hearing Petey speak about a family treasure, something he’d be able to pass down to his son. Nellie was one of them.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “In fact, she claims she was actually privy to it.”

  “To the treasure?”

  The producer nodded.

  “So what was it? Where was it? And why hasn’t anyone ever found it?”

  Lon set down his notepad. “She got confused at that point and kept repeating herself. Kept saying it was worth millions. Anyone would know the minute they saw it.” He tapped his pen against his palm. “And that’s it.”

  Her daughter had ended the interview, and Lucas couldn’t blame her. Nellie hadn’t been making sense for a few minutes at that point, and when the tears and the stuttering began, Victoria Fortunado had announced enough was enough.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Sophie asked.

  Lon shrugged. “I don’t know. Her daughter confirmed that yes, there was talk of this ‘treasure’ on and off for a while after the murders, but police never found any evidence of an intruder in the home on the night of the deaths. Nothing was vandalized or taken, and according to the autopsy, the coroner found Petey’s hair and skin under Miranda’s fingernails. When they recovered his body, he had some scratches around the face. Cops assumed a domestic fight.”

  “But no one ever found anything?” Sophie said. She glanced at Lucas. “Two keepers lived there after he did. No buried gold under a secret floorboard? False door hiding some piece of priceless art?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Somethin’ worth millions would-a been found a long time ago, I’m thinking.”

  “But what did Nellie mean, she ‘was privy to it’?” Sophie said. “Petey Smith actually physically showed it to her? When he was her student or something?”

  “That was the impression I got,” Terrence said. The other men nodded.

  Sophie stood, and the shirt slipped from her shoulders. “Are we wrapping the final scene tomo
rrow? You want to add in something about the treasure?”

  “At least a mention. It’s good stuff, even if we can’t substantiate it.” Lon passed her a new script. “Look this over.”

  “Can I take a shower first?”

  Terrific. That was all Lucas needed, a visual of a wet and naked Sophie two floors above him, letting the water stream down her back while she ran soapy hands over her breasts and her hips and down to her legs, then up by slow degrees as she rinsed every last inch.

  He scraped back his chair and strode across the room, where he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was lukewarm by now, but he didn’t care. He took an enormous gulp and studied the peeling wallpaper near the front door. Should help Francine redo the walls in here. She should paint instead of paper. He wiggled the knob. Seemed a little loose, too. He mentally cataloged a few other things he’d been meaning to mention and turned around only when he was sure image of Sophie showering was completely gone.

  Or almost completely. His shirt had slipped down her arms to her elbows, and now she stood facing the room in those damn half-see-through pajamas. Good God, someone should just kill him and put him out of his misery. Lucas wondered if there was anything else in the bed and breakfast that needed fixing. Like immediately.

  “How’s the ankle?” Lon asked.

  “Working. Zero pain.”

  “The rest of you is in one piece too?”

  She swept both hands down her sides and patted her hips. “Look at me. One whole, complete piece.” The others packed up their things to go, but she grabbed his arm to stop him. “Lon, I’m so sorry. I know it was a stupid thing to do.”

  He pulled her into a rough embrace. “Very stupid.”

  “Never again. I promise.”

  He snorted. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  “I’m serious.” But she smiled and gave him a little jab with her elbow.

  He opened the front door, and Terrence followed. Lucas fell into step behind the two men without a word.

  “Wait,” Sophie said from behind him. “Please.”

  He stopped.