by T. M. Cromer
Their eyes met. His were the color of molten silver, practically glowing with his desire. She’d never met anyone whose eyes changed with their moods before.
He ran the rough pad of his thumb the width of her bottom lip before plunging it inside. Her lips closed around it in a compressed O, and she sucked gently before nipping the tip with her teeth.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “Jesus.”
“I have to go.”
A heartfelt sigh was his answer. He put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around, but instead of marching her forward, he pulled her back against him.
The full length of his erection nestled against her ass, and his teeth found her earlobe. The sharp nip sent a shock wave through her system, and she instinctively pressed back into him. He moved his hand to apply pressure to her abdomen, making the contact of their bodies complete.
“Just so we’re clear, I would take you where we stand.” His raw, hungry voice caused her to whimper. His arms tightened a fraction, and he leaned down to growl into her ear. “Run while you can, Margaret. One day soon, this will happen.”
But she didn’t want to run. She wanted to climb onto him and cling for dear life.
Perhaps he sensed her hesitation, or her wanton desire to run away with him put off a unique vibe, because his arms tightened briefly.
She patted his forearms. Whether to encourage him to steal her away or to release her, she was clueless to know.
With a rough sigh, he let her go.
They walked the last ten steps to her window, and he reached forward to shove it open. It didn’t budge. He tried twice more before giving up. “Does it automatically lock?”
“No. There’s no way it should be locked at all.”
“Think your brother decided to get even with you for running off?”
“That toad,” she muttered.
A hand reached out of the dark and grabbed her.
She opened her mouth to scream.
Luckily, Gabriel had the fast reflexes of a superhero, and he clamped a hand over her mouth and stifled her bloodcurdling scream before it escaped.
When he released a hearty laugh, Margie elbowed him in the ribs and turned her temper on her brother. “You’re a freaking jerk, Jamie! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
James’s unrepentant grin earned him a punch to the upper arm. “That hurt about as much as a mosquito bite.”
“You’re an asshole!”
“Shhh, keep it down. Some people are actually trying to sleep around here.” James’s laughter lurked below the surface, indicating he was only half-serious.
Gabriel placed his lips next to her ear. “Should I stay for your brother’s safety?”
“No. I don’t want witnesses when I bury the body.”
“Okay, remember I’m a criminal attorney if you need one.” He squeezed her hip. “I’ll bid you both a good night. Until next time, Margaret.”
His tone was silky smooth and his meaning clear.
After he removed his large, warm hand, Margie felt desolate. He was only ten feet away when she opened her mouth to call him back.
“Come on, it’s been a long day, and you need sleep.” Jamie stepped in front of her. “He just moved in. He’s not going anywhere.”
As she followed her brother toward the front of the house, she glanced over her shoulder.
Gabriel had paused on his porch to gather up the blanket and beer bottles. With one last long look in her direction, he disappeared into his house.
Margie pressed a hand to her belly to calm the butterflies. The man was a god. There were no two ways about it. How else could he melt her resistance and obliterate her resolve with so little effort?
Chapter 7
APRIL 1912 -
Lucy Reddington-Hale was a passenger on the ship called the RMS Titanic, with the intent to travel home to America after an extended visit in England. During the first evening out at sea, the opulent dining salon had been filled to almost overflowing. Capacity stood at roughly five hundred and fifty. There had to be close to that many occupants seated, all dressed to the nines. The who’s who of the upper class could be observed sipping champagne from the finest crystal. Among them, Lucy, her brand-new husband, Andrew, and her sister, Rosalie.
Conversation flowed, and Lucy rolled her eyes at the sameness of it all. She was bored. Tired of the socialites flaunting their wealth. Tired of the men displaying their wives and mistresses like arm candy. Tired of watching her sister turn the head of every male in a twenty-yard vicinity. She assured herself she wasn’t jealous of Rosie or of her vivacious, charming nature. One day, she might even believe it.
If Lucy drank a little more champagne than she should’ve that night, who was to keep her in check? And if her smile was a little more brittle than bright, who was to notice? She was gearing up to claim a headache and make her escape back to her stateroom, when he strolled in.
Women’s heads turned to admire the new passenger’s masculine beauty, jaws agape.
The man was simply splendid. No other word could do him justice. With his dark hair slicked back, the exact color was difficult to tell, but Lucy perceived the thick mass to be brown or possibly black. The carefree air he exuded was enhanced by a pair of wicked silver-gray eyes.
A thrill electrified her insides when he was escorted to their table.
When he spoke, the deep baritone seemed to come from God Himself, and the British accent was positively swoon-worthy. Admittedly, Lucy had always admired the English accent. The deliciousness of his speech had her heart quickening and a bolt of awareness sizzling along her spine.
He introduced himself as Sebastian Harwick, and the name teased Lucy’s memory. Another member of their elite crowd, no doubt, although she couldn’t place him. More than once, over the short distance between his seat and hers, their eyes connected. His were knowing, as if he could delve into her deepest, darkest secrets without her ever voicing them.
As the dinner hour passed, Lucy hid her fascination behind cool indifference. His devil-may-care attitude called to the rebellious part of her soul. The part she’d always kept buried deep and that never saw the light of day. Even now, she had to fight his seductive pull. Had she been unmarried, her obsession with Sebastian might have been a tad more acceptable. As a newlywed woman, she had no right to ogle him.
Of the thirteen couples honeymooning on the maiden voyage, she and Andrew Hale were one. Although she and Andrew had yet to consummate their vows, they were bound together as man and wife, and to show interest in another while sitting next to the one whose ring she wore was inexcusable, especially if she was caught. Still, she peeked under her lashes at the gorgeous specimen across from her when she thought no one was looking.
As the night wore on, Sebastian showed a marked interest in her, too. He seemed uncaring of Andrew on her left, who glowered at every flirty topic Sebastian used to challenge her. The compliments and single-minded attention he showered on Lucy made her soul sparkle. While she’d never been an incomparable beauty, the way Rosie was, Lucy had held her own at the soirees and parties. But now, in this time and place, Sebastian’s warm regard convinced her she was the most desired woman alive.
She had just lifted her glass in response to Sebastian’s impromptu toast when a loud, obnoxious buzzing began, repeating over and over, directly in her ear. With nothing more than a desire to silence the noise, she flailed a hand in the direction of the sound and encountered a small square box.
Frowning her confusion, she squinted and peered around.
Margie was in her Palm Coast home, snuggled beneath her soft down comforter. The annoying buzzer happened to be her alarm clock, reminding her it was time to get up and nag her children until they consumed some semblance of a nutritious breakfast.
Sebastian.
She hadn’t dreamed of him in over five months, but after the bone-melting kiss she shared with Gabriel, it was easy to see why she had. She touched her lips and grinned. Sitting up, she eased open
the nightstand drawer and removed her drawing supplies. A check of the clock showed she had seven of her nine-minute snooze allotment left. Charcoal firmly in hand, she began to sketch Sebastian as she’d first seen him that night a hundred and six years ago.
He was a masterpiece of pure male beauty, and her artistic skills captured him to perfection. With a few swipes of her charcoal, she recreated the moment when he’d sipped his champagne and graced her with a look of such sizzling intensity she thought her unmentionables would melt. Goodness, she’d loved him then. She’d loved him in every incarnation they shared, and in the ones they hadn’t, she pined for what she didn’t know she was missing.
The gift she’d been born with in this lifetime allowed her to look back, to remember with such detail, such ease, it seemed as if her imagination got carried away.
Meeting him in the flesh had helped. From the morning in her hammock, she no longer questioned the images crowding her brain. No longer believed she was in love with a phantom who didn’t exist.
After she saw her children were fed, she’d call Annie to see what she could dig up in the ancestry databases. Now Margie knew she hadn’t dreamed him up, she wanted to verify Sebastian’s existence.
The door opened, and Kaley lurked in the doorway, looking unsure of her welcome. In her hand was a steaming mug of coffee. Margie took an appreciative sniff and gestured her daughter to come join her.
“Good morning. Your color’s back. How are you feeling today?”
“Better. Still a bit of a headache.” Kaley placed the mug on the bed stand and sat on the edge of the mattress. She twisted to get a better look at what Margie was shading, not at all subtle about her curiosity. “Is that Mr. James?”
“Yes.” Margie shifted the pad to allow her daughter a better look.
“Why does he look different?”
How did she answer? How did she say “because this was how he looked in a previous life”? She didn’t. Not without sounding like she’d lost her mind.
“I’m a bit obsessed with the early nineteen hundreds. I suppose I drew him in that time period without thinking,” she lied.
“He’s hot. For an old guy.”
A laugh escaped, and Margie gently nudged Kaley’s shoulder with her own. Everyone was old when you were fourteen. “Watch it, you little brat.”
“He really likes you, Mom.”
“I like him, too.”
“But?”
Age-old doubts flooded in, and Margie tried to blank her face before Kaley saw them. Why she felt the need to hide her vulnerability was anyone’s guess. Perhaps if she was honest, they would have one more thing to connect over. “I don’t know. Maybe I worry I’m too old for romance. Like my chance has passed me by.”
Kaley looked thoughtful as she frowned down at the portrait and bit her lip. It startled Margie to realize the gesture was inherited from her.
“What is it, honey?”
“I think that’s the first time you’ve answered me like I’m not a kid.”
“You’ve turned into a beautiful young woman, and I need to remember you’re not a small child to be sheltered from all the grown-up worries.” She smiled softly. “It’s not to say I won’t continue to try and protect you from the ugliness of the world, but you deserve to be in the know.”
They shared a moment of understanding, and she imagined she felt some of Kaley’s ever-present animosity ease.
“You’re not too old.” Kaley shrugged. “And I like him. He’d be better for you than Dad ever was.”
The bitterness in her daughter’s voice wasn’t anything new, but for once, Margie could see it wasn’t directed at her and was completely intended for Scott.
“Kaley… your dad, he hasn’t done anything to hurt you, has he?”
Shocked outrage met her question. Kaley violently shook her head then winced. “Ouch!”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Her hand went up to touch the stitches, and as quickly, she dropped it to her lap. “I’m good,” she repeated.
Margie wanted to kiss the boo-boo better, but that’s what one did for a toddler. Her teenage daughter would likely throat punch her for attempting to soothe the hurt. “I didn’t mean to insinuate your father wasn’t a good man, Kaley. He…”
Scott was a deadbeat, for sure, but if there was something more at play, Margie needed to take action.
“I know what you’re trying to ask, and he’s not like that, Mom. I swear. He just doesn’t give a shit about us, that’s all.”
“Language,” Margie corrected absently. In her mind, she struggled to formulate the proper words to assure Kaley Scott did care. Her mind drew a blank. Really, Scott was an ass of the highest magnitude.
“Anyway,” Kaley said, drawing out the word to change the subject. “Are you going to date Mr. James? I totally think you should.”
Chuckling at her daughter’s waggling eyebrows, Margie kissed her cheek and was happy, for once, Kaley didn’t balk at the contact. “Perhaps. We’ll have to see. I doubt he realizes what he’s getting into with this family.”
“True.”
“Enough of all that. I want to show you my gratitude for delivering unto me the nectar of the gods.”
Kaley giggled.
Margie hid her smile with the rim of the mug. A sip and a sigh showed her true appreciation as the tasty coffee slid down her throat.
“God, this is good. Thank you, honey.” The beaming smile she received brightened her morning. “What say we go shopping today? If you’re up to it, that is. I can call Sammy—I need to apologize for yesterday—and we can see if she wants to go with us. Make it a girls’ day.”
“Really?”
“Sure, why not?”
The wattage of Kaley’s smile doubled. “Can I call her?”
Margie bit her lip but nodded. “I’d like to talk to her after you’re done, okay? I really need to set things to rights.”
“She’ll understand, Mom. She always does.”
Yes, such was Sammy’s gift. Not only was she psychic, but her ability had come with a deep sense of understanding. Margie sometimes envied her younger sister. Not because of her bubbly personality and good looks, but because of her ease with everyone around her.
“I still need to apologize. I was a total bitch, as you said.”
“I’m sorry.”
The tearful quality in Kaley’s voice ripped Margie’s fixation from Sebastian’s likeness.
“Apology accepted, but only if you forgive me, too.”
A tentative smile returned to her daughter’s youthful face. “I can do that.”
Margie set aside the sketchpad and shifted to hug Kaley. “Good. Now get going. I need to finish my coffee and stare at this beautiful man for a bit longer.”
Kaley smirked and scurried away.
The black-and-white image drew Margie’s attention again. Somehow, she’d managed to recreate the ever-present twinkle in his silvery eyes. Her heart gave a hard thunk.
Shit.
She was a goner already.
Chapter 8
“You should have a security system installed.”
Margie looked up from the soft-pink blouse she’d been contemplating purchasing and met her sister’s steady blue-eyed stare. “I seriously considered it, but I’m afraid the kids or I would keep setting it off with all the coming and going.”
“Still, if you set up something with security cameras…” Sammy shrugged and nodded to the shirt. “It suits you.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “And it’s on sale, so you won’t mind if the buttons get ripped off.”
Biting her lip against a laugh, Margie added the shirt to her shopping basket. The day would probably never come when any man ripped off her clothing in a passionate frenzy, but a girl could dream. Recalling the kiss from last night, Margie had the overwhelming urge to fan her warming face.
“Who is he?” Sammy tossed another top her way.
Kaley cast Margie a twinkling glance and opened
her mouth to pipe up from one rack over.
“Shut it, kid!” Margie ordered, adopting her sister’s slang.
“Doesn’t one of your neighbors have an alarm company?” Sammy asked in an abrupt departure from teasing.
“You mean Don?” At Sammy’s nod, Margie grimaced. “Yes. I feel weird asking him to install it though.”
“Why?”
“He’s asked me to dinner a few times, and I’ve turned him down. I’m afraid running to him with this is like encouragement for him to start his pursuit again.”
“Ugh, yeah. I get it.”
Margie figured she would. When her sister had just entered college, one of the local boys began harassing Sammy. At the time, Margie hadn’t known, but it came to light a few years later at a family gathering. James had mentioned running into Rob and talked about the hostility the guy still held for her two siblings. “Sammy? All those years ago, I had no idea that guy you went to school with—Rob—was such a jerk. I’d never have encouraged you to date someone like him if I’d known.”
Sammy waved a hand. “Water under the bridge. I haven’t seen that asshat for years.” Without warning, her body gave an odd jerk and shudder.
“What is it? You okay?”
“Yeah, I think a ghost walked over my grave.”
“Did you see something?”
“No, more like a feeling. Must be a twisted Pavlovian response to Rob’s name.” This time Sammy gave an exaggerated shiver. “See?”
They laughed, and the mood was lighter as they moved to another circular sale rack.
Later that evening, Margie spread her haul out on the bed and smiled as she recalled the fun they’d had. Deep down, she understood where her animosity toward Sammy stemmed from, but pushing it aside to enjoy the day had been refreshing. Going forward, she’d try to be better. Past-life hurts should remain history, not bleed into the here and now. With age, came wisdom. It had taken a while for Margie to reconcile the tragic events associated surrounding the Titanic, but she was getting there.
As she carefully removed tags, she admired the new dress Kaley and Sammy had bullied her into buying. Her sister had insisted Margie would be “sexy as hell.” With a sigh, she picked up the black wrap dress and faced the mirror, holding it in front of her and twisting this way and that. After four full-term births, sexy felt like a thing of the past. It could be argued confidence was attractive and self-doubt was just a state of mind, but Margie was short on the first one and had a wealth of the second.