Passionate Kisses

by Various

  “Sophie, are you sure?”

  But she’d never been surer of anything. Reluctantly, she let him release her so her toes touched the ground and he could lead her down the hallway to the first room on the right. No lights. Open curtains let in the moon and the stars. Sophie sank onto the wide bed and reached for him.

  He dragged his tongue along her earlobe and down to her bare shoulder. One strap of her dress fell to her elbow. “You drive me crazy.” The other strap fell. His fingers ran along the curve of one breast, and she shivered.

  “Is that a good thing?” Buttons on his shirt, undone. Jeans to the floor. She moved her hands over his muscular chest and the arms that had saved her more than once. She wanted them around her. She wanted them pinning her to the bed, the muscles flexing and turning her wet with desire.

  “What do you think?” he asked into the softness of her belly. His breath moved over her in maddening inches, teasing her, drawing her as close to the edge as she could possibly bear it and then pulling back to make her plead for more. “It’s very good,” he answered when she couldn’t, his lips imprinting the words along her inner thigh and making her gasp.

  “Oh. God.” She shivered as he traced patterns along the inside of her legs, watched him look up at her with desire etched across his face. She cried out, grabbed the sheets and the pillowcases and would have held onto the damn stars above them if she could have. Chills. Waves upon waves of desire. So close, achingly close. And then it was there. Her breath left her, heart pounding in her temples and wrists and a hundred other places under skin he’d turned slick with sweat.

  But he didn’t stop, barely even stopped kissing her, and before she knew it she came again. “Lucas–God, I–“

  And then–holy shit, but this guy had the endurance of some kind of beautiful wild animal–a third time. At that, the stars spun above her, and Sophie closed her eyes and let herself fall.

  Chapter 27

  Lucas leaned up on one elbow. Sophie lay naked beside him, her arms tucked under the pillow and her breathing deep and regular.

  Damn, but she mesmerized him. Took his breath away. From the first moment they’d met, something about Sophie Smithwaite had twisted him up. Hell, he thought about her from the moment he got up in the morning to the moment he crawled back into bed at night.

  This bed. The one they’d torn the sheets off in their love-making. The one he’d never brought another woman home to, not after moving here once Shannon had ripped his heart out. Guess maybe he’d been waiting for the right one to christen it with. He reached over and brushed Sophie’s hair from her face. Beautiful. Even with a bruised lip from her fall on the beach; even without any makeup at all.

  She shifted in her sleep and curled into his chest. He let one arm wrap around her and buried his face in her hair. She smelled of shampoo, of perfume, of ocean air, of sex. Man, he could go to sleep to that each night. And wake up to it each morning. Easily.

  She opened her eyes after a minute or two.

  “Hey you.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “What time is it?”

  He glanced at the sky, pink and pale yellow with early dawn. “Around five, I think. Why? What time are you meeting Lon?”

  “I think he said eight. Down by the lighthouse, finish the last scene and add something about the supposed million-dollar treasure. Right?” She sat up, and he loved that she didn’t cover herself with the sheet or wrap her arms around her nakedness. Of course, that also made it tough to keep from paying attention to the nipples that were awake and beckoning him to touch.

  “Lucas?”

  “Uh huh. Think that’s what he said.” Eight, noon, five in the afternoon–he didn’t remember and sure the hell didn’t care right now. He nuzzled the edge of one breast, then the other, and let his hand wander southward.

  “I didn’t look over the new script.” Sophie said. She jumped as he stroked her. “He’s gonna flip.”

  “You can improvise,” Lucas said into the curve of her neck. “Can’t you?”

  “I’m supposed to say something about the treasure.” Gooseflesh broke out on her bare skin, and she shivered.

  Reluctantly, Lucas pulled a blanket up around her. “You okay?”

  “I think so. It’s been such a bizarre week. I’m not sure which end is up or down.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

  “Do you want me to take you back to Francine’s?” Kind of a lousy way to wrap up the night, but the angst on her face told him her mind wasn’t on romance any longer. He’d make her breakfast in bed another time.

  She cupped his cheek in her palm and smiled. “Sometimes you read my mind. I ever tell you that?”

  “Nope.” But he liked the thought. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. They’d have to get up in a few minutes, but right now he didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything except lie beside her and savor the moment.

  She traced the outline of his biceps. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “When I was at your parents’–”

  “Shannon was there. With her friend Rosie. Right?”

  “How’d you know? Your parents tell you?”

  He nodded. “They’re still friendly to her. And her dad.” His jaw tightened. “Don’t know why, ’cause they know everything that happened.”

  “They’re being polite.”

  He shrugged. In his opinion, they didn’t have to be. Not to her.

  “That isn’t what I wanted to ask you.”

  He turned on the pillow to face her.

  But she didn’t say anything. Instead she bit her bottom lip and looked worried.

  “Sophie, what the hell?”

  “It wasn’t like they were fighting, but there was a weird vibe in the room.”

  He looked away. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

  “Your mom said something about the ten-year anniversary coming up. Of the plane crash.”

  “It is. In a few months.”

  “And your father said something like ‘It’s hard for everyone, isn’t it?’ Then he walked out. There was definite tension.”

  Lucas folded his arms behind his head. “My dad thinks my mom cheated on him with Mitchell Talbot.” He said the words quickly, flatly. No use making it a secret. Everyone in town had heard the rumors.

  “Who’s Mitchell? Oh, wait. The lighthouse keeper? The guy who died in the plane crash?”

  Lucas nodded and waited for the next, inevitable question.

  “And do you think she did?”

  “I have no fucking idea.”

  * * * *

  It was strange, driving the roads of Lindsey Point this early. Low-lying clouds kept the sun hidden, and a grayish half-light cast long shadows across the ground. Fog had started to roll in from the sea, thickening the air with humidity. It hung over the trees and turned the street signs fuzzy-edged.

  But it was stranger still to be driving with Sophie beside him, not saying a word. He wanted to say something to fix the awkward silence, but he didn’t have a clue how. She shouldn’t have asked. Other people’s marriages weren’t anyone’s business. He’d told himself that a long time ago. It was up to his mom and dad to sort out what had happened, or what hadn’t, and why the story had started in the first place.

  Her hand crept across the seat and rested on his leg. “Hey. Last night was amazing. Seriously. Thank you.”

  The ice cracked a little. “‘Amazing’? Please tell me you don’t say that to all the local guys you sleep with.”

  “I don’t make a habit of sleeping with local guys.”

  He grinned, knowing her comment was probably a white lie, but he let himself believe it all the same. He turned off the main road and took a back way to Francine’s. They passed a garbage truck, and another pickup, but otherwise, the streets were empty. Looked like another quiet, sleepy morning in town. He liked it. No, he damn near loved it.

  “Thank you,” she said as t
hey pulled into the driveway of the bed and breakfast. “For bringing me back early.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Hmm.” He leaned across the seat and pulled her in for a kiss. Kissing was much better than getting involved in conversation right now. “Hope I get a few more of those before you skip town.”

  She leaned into him, both hands gripping his shirtfront. “I hope so too,” she said when they finally broke apart. Her cheeks pinked.

  Lucas hopped out of the truck and walked around to open her door. Even with the fog rolling in, it was a beautiful morning down here near the water. He didn’t get a chance to see the sun rise over the ocean too much.

  “Hey, what’s that?” He pointed at the beach.

  Sophie had gotten out of the truck on her own, still favoring her ankle. She shaded her eyes. “What am I looking at?”

  Fog slunk along the ground, and the bottom third of the lighthouse was almost invisible. The keeper’s house too. Lucas squinted. Still, he was sure he’d caught a glimpse of something.

  “What’d you see? A person?” Sophie wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Couldn’t see much of anything now, but he could have sworn that seconds ago, he’d seen a figure walking down by the lighthouse.

  She took a few limping steps to the end of the driveway. “Are you thinking maybe someone’s poking around who shouldn’t be? Like the other night?” Her face paled.

  “Maybe.” Lucas pulled his Red Sox hat firmly into place. “Know what, think I’ll take a quick walk down and see.” If it was the jackass who’d come after Sophie, Lucas would straighten him out but good. You don’t go after a visitor, even if you think she’s poking around in the wrong places, he’d say while wringing the guy’s neck. And you sure as hell don’t harm that body of hers, not the legs not the waist and not the beautiful, talented mouth.

  “Hey.” She put one hand on his arm. “You sure this is a good idea? Why don’t you call the police? Let them deal with this.”

  Because he wanted to take care of it himself. “No point in calling if I’m just seeing things. Or if it’s someone I know taking an early morning walk or something.”

  “I guess.” She sounded doubtful.

  “Do me a favor, though? If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, call the police.”

  “Lucas, seriously, I think this is a bad idea.” She plucked at his shirtsleeve.

  “Listen, it’s my town. My beach, practically my backyard. I’ll be fine.” He opened the cab of his truck and grabbed the heavy Maglite he always kept behind the seat. “But I’ll bring this with me. For protection.” He dropped a kiss onto her forehead and then headed across the road. “Be right back. Ten minutes, tops.”

  He jogged down the sandy shoulder to where the access road from the beach joined the road. Despite what he’d told Sophie, he didn’t know this stretch of the coastline as well as the other end of town, where he and his football buddies had partied all through school. The charred remains of bonfires were visible there today. The teenagers still hung out by the east end dunes, still kissed in the shadows, and still went skinny dipping off the sandbar after dark.

  But this end of Lindsey Point’s coastline had remained lonely through the years. Even the mystique of a haunted lighthouse didn’t draw the locals too much. The fog fell wet on Lucas’s face, and more than once he had to wipe it away. It would turn to rain at any point.

  He headed toward the lighthouse first. He could have sworn the person had been coming from the east, walking away from town. When he reached the steps at the base, though, he saw nothing at first. When he bent and looked closer, he made out faint footsteps in the dirt near the stairs. He couldn’t tell much about them, since they disappeared into the sand on either side, but they looked newly made. On the small side, and precise rather than the large, shuffling steps of a man wearing boots. Miranda’s ghost? He shook his head at once. No such thing. Sophie had said the person following her the other night might have been a woman, and these prints seemed to support that thought. But that added to the mystery, because what woman in Lindsey Point would want to play sleuth at the beach in the dark?

  Sophie would.

  True, but who else was absolutely crazy the way she was?

  Lucas squinted as he jogged toward the keeper’s house. Could barely see three feet in front of him now. Fog like this didn’t come in too often. He stumbled and caught himself at the edge of the walkway. Hands on his knees, he peered at the ground. More footsteps here, but they didn’t go up to the house, only around it. He listened but heard nothing. Well, this was turning out to be a wild goose chase. One lap around the keeper’s house, and he’d head back to his truck.

  “Hello?”

  He froze.

  “Is someone there?”

  Same voice as the one they’d heard the other night. A woman’s voice. Most likely matching the woman’s footprints. He hadn’t thought it a ghost then, and he didn’t now. But what the hell was it? Who the hell was it? He turned in a circle, trying to get his bearings. After a moment, he made out the slap of waves against the rocks to his left.

  “Lucas?” The figure stepped out of the fog.

  Relief zipped down his spine. “Francine!”

  She pulled a scarf around her head and walked toward him. She wore a long coat of some sort, dragging on the ground, and funny, pointed shoes peeked out the bottom. Old-fashioned. The kind that would leave small marks in the sand and look like they belonged to another decade.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  She gave a rueful smile. “I like to walk. And I like the ocean air.”

  He could understand that. “It’s early, though. Might not be safe to be alone down here.”

  “I have mace.” She pulled the scarf tighter around her face and patted the pocket of her skirt.

  “You ever walk out here at night?”

  “Sometimes. If everyone’s asleep at the house, or I don’t have any guests.”

  So Francine was the ghost people thought they saw. A slight woman dressed in period clothing, trekking a solitary path in the middle of the night. It made perfect sense. He rubbed the back of his neck, glad to put one piece of the puzzle to rest. A little voice niggled at his brain, though, telling him Francine had only been back in Lindsey Point less than a year, and sightings of Miranda Smith went back decades. There could have been someone else, another lonely walker who preferred the dark to the daytime. There were always explanations.

  “Want to go back to the house? I’ll walk with you.” He almost told her he’d dropped off Sophie there a few minutes earlier before realizing he’d better keep that information to himself. Francine might have no idea her only houseguest hadn’t spent the night up on the third floor.

  But she shook her head and pointed in the opposite direction. “There’s a bird’s nest by one of the dunes over there. I want to see if the babies have hatched yet. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Be careful.” Lucas watched her disappear into the fog. Rain dotted his skin and fell into his eyes. He rubbed his face and looked around for the road. It took him a minute to get oriented, until he saw the top of the lighthouse poking through the fog.

  A minute too long. And a minute too late, because he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him. Didn’t see someone dart from the keeper’s house. Something hard and heavy landed between his shoulder blades, and Lucas stumbled with the pain. The Maglite flew from his hand and rolled away.

  The next blow landed on the back of his head. He fell to his knees, fingers digging in the sand for something, anything, to defend himself.

  The third blow knocked him out completely.

  Chapter 28

  Sophie stood in Francine’s driveway and stared at the beach. Policemen. Locals milling around and gawking, coffee cups in hand. A journalist scribbling notes. At least two cameramen snapping shots of the scene. Her legs wobbled,
and she backed up until she got to the steps of the bed and breakfast and collapsed onto the bottom one. The fog had burned away, but that didn’t matter now since whoever had smashed Lucas over the head had gotten away without a trace.

  Sophie hugged herself, shivering in the chilly morning air. Someone had attacked her strong, handsome, amazing-in-bed knight in shining armor. How? Why? She bit her bottom lip. When he hadn’t returned, she’d waited an extra two minutes before calling 911. The hundred and twenty seconds had almost killed her.

  “Miss Smithwaite?” A policeman with a kind smile and a slight paunch walked up the driveway. “Have a minute?”

  She nodded. “Can I stay sitting?” She didn’t trust her ankle to hold her.

  “Sure.” He pulled out a notepad.

  “I already talked to the cops. The ones who got here first, I mean.” She could still see them down on the beach, a fair-skinned woman in her early thirties and a darker-complexioned man who looked close to retirement age. “Like I told them, I didn’t see anything.”

  “A-yep. That’s what they told me. My name’s Officer O’Brien, by the way.”

  As in Shannon O’Brien’s father? Had to be. The resemblance was there, in the cheekbones and the smile. Her skin crawled with discomfort. She wondered if he’d liked Lucas, if he’d thought maybe they’d be related by marriage someday. She wondered what he’d thought when his daughter ended up in someone else’s bed and then wondered if he even knew. Daddies and daughters shared a tenuous relationship, from all she’d gathered over the years. Not like she knew first-hand or anything.

  “I actually wanted to ask you a couple of questions, if that’s all right. Your producer mentioned you’d also been accosted by someone down on the beach two nights ago.”

  Wonderful. She cut a glance Lon’s way. He and Terrence were standing down by the road, talking a mile a minute and gesturing at the beach.

  “I wouldn’t say accosted. I was taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep. And I thought I heard someone else down there.”