Island Nights

by P. J. Mellor

  Lightning flashed jagging through the darkened sky. A boom of thunder immediately followed, shaking the ground beneath her feet. Could islands sink?

  Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the huge structure in front of her. Dark and foreboding, it loomed, reminding her of the house at the Bates Motel in Psycho—only not in nearly as good a shape.

  Its windows had, at one time, been boarded up. Now several of the boards swung in the wind, making the hotel look as though it were weeping plywood.

  The wind chose that time to rip one of the pieces of wood off. It flew toward them, then landed to cartwheel down the walk.

  Ben tackled her, rolling with her in the grass, weeds and mud. They came to rest at the base of the stairs leading to a wraparound porch.

  “Are you hurt?” Ben breathed into her ear, his weight warm and secure against her, shielding her from the elements.

  Wait. She didn’t need protection. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Wedging her hands between them to push on his chest, she grunted and said, “Get off of me!”

  Immediately he stood. Cold rain drenched her anew. For a second, she sat, waiting for him to help her up. She was in for a long wait, because he never looked back as he made his way up the wide stairs to the covered porch.

  Growling under her breath, Reese rolled to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster, given the circumstance, and brushed as much junk off her body as possible.

  “You’re welcome,” he said in a frosty tone when she’d joined him on the porch.

  “What? You think I should be thanking you for knocking me down and rolling me in the mud and Lord knows what else?” Wiping the wet hair back from her eyes, she glared at him.

  “No, but I thought maybe you’d be grateful that I saved your sorry ass out there.”

  “Excuse me? I didn’t realize my ass, or any part of my anatomy, was in jeopardy.” Her eyes narrowed as she fired back his earlier words. “It’s. Just. Rain.”

  “It’s a tropical storm. Haven’t you been listening to the weather reports?” He reached to pull on the board covering the entrance. It came off easily in his hand. “What the hell?”

  Reese paused in midsearch of her tote and looked up. “Problems, Bwana?”

  “Ha. Ha. Funny.” He glanced down at the piece of wood, then around the lawn fronting the hotel. “Someone must have been here. This board wasn’t secured.”

  Cold fear gripped her. Don’t panic. He probably wants you to panic so he can make fun of you. She swallowed around the rapidly rising lump in her throat. “Someone,” she squeaked. “Someone like who? A criminal? Kids? Teenagers?”

  Personally, she liked the idea of teenagers. She could cope with teenagers. Teenagers would be here on their own agenda, maybe to drink or make out with their dates. Drinking and making out sounded pretty tame, not to mention good, at that moment.

  “How the hell should I know?” Ben’s voice brought her back to the situation at hand.

  The front door squeaked ominously as he slowly opened it and peered into what looked like the lobby.

  His hand on her chest stopped her from following. “Stay here.”

  Yeah, like that is going to happen.

  Cautious steps took them into the cavernous room. With the windows boarded over and the darkness of the stormy day, it was difficult to see much of anything.

  Reese alternated between looking down, ever vigilant for critters of any kind, and scanning the room.

  Ben stopped, head alert, listening.

  Reese ran into his back.

  He caught her before she totally lost her balance and fell.

  “I told you to wait outside,” he said in a low voice.

  “Why?” she whispered, to prove she could be as covert as anyone. “Do you think whoever it is could still be here?” Eyes wide, she looked around. Against her ribs, her heart beat a frantic tattoo. She wouldn’t be surprised if Ben could hear it.

  A movement by the door caught her eye.

  Before she realized it, a scream ripped from her throat as she hopped onto Ben’s back, clutching his neck for all she was worth. If someone or something ominous was lurking, they’d have to go through Ben to get to her.

  Not very honorable, but there you have it.

  Ben made a gurgling sound. Gasping, he pried her hands from his throat. “Shit, woman! What the hell are you doing? Get off of me!”

  Instead, she tightened her knees and pointed a shaking finger at the white apparition floating by the door. “It moved,” she hissed in his ear.

  “Shit-fire-spit! Hell yes, it moved! We left the door open.” Dislodging her, he stalked to the door and slammed it, then pulled the sheet from an ornate coatrack by the door. “Satisfied? I promise, the killer coatrack won’t get you.”

  Arms wrapped tightly around her ribs, she chewed on her lip. “Well, how was I to know that? You started it, anyway, scaring me by saying someone had been here.”

  “Well, someone has.” He glanced around. “But they’re gone now, I guess.” Arms wide, he turned in a circle. “So, this is it. Can we go now?”

  “No! We can’t go now. I need to take measurements, examine the facilities. You know, inspect things.”

  “What things?” Hands on hips, he glared at her. “You have no idea, do you? No, you don’t, I can see it on your face. Blondie, if we don’t get a move on and haul ass back to Sand Dollar, we’re going to have to hunker down and wait out the storm right here.”

  “You told me the storm wasn’t going to hit us.”

  “I was wrong.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Doesn’t happen often, but I’m man enough to admit it when it does.” He walked to a large white lump and tugged off another sheet to reveal a couch and sat down, crossing one bony ankle over his knobby knee. Scooting down to a slouch, he closed his eyes. “I’ll wait here while you look around. Make it quick.”

  After he heard her leave the room, Ben jumped up and looked out at the churning waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

  “Son of a bitch!” He pounded his forehead against the door-jamb. The channel would be impassable now.

  The gurgling of his stomach had him clenching his jaw. He sure hoped his grandmother was still in the habit of keeping a fully stocked pantry when she passed.

  They weren’t going anywhere for a long time.

  13

  Reese sneezed as another gust of wind wafted who knew how many layers of dust into her face. Digging in her tote for a tissue, she made slow progress toward the back of the hotel. At least, she thought it was the back.

  All the dark paneling wasn’t helping the situation. Her hand idly grazed the woodwork as she made her way down a long hall.

  A door in the paneling stubbed her finger. A cautious peek revealed nothing but darkness. Flipping the switch on the hallway wall did absolutely nothing, as expected.

  Ahead of her, a faint light glowed. Heart in her throat, she fumbled in her bag for her pepper spray in case the light turned out to be their intruder. Just as her fingers closed around the coolness of the spray can, the hall opened up into a small room, weak light spilling in through the uncovered bay window.

  “Are you about finished?” Ben’s voice, directly behind her, startled a scream out of her. Before she could stop, she reacted. Taking a step back, as she’d been instructed, she fired the spray.

  “Argh! Damn it, why’d you do that!” Ben was doubled over, making gagging sounds.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry! You scared me, and I guess I just reacted.” Tentatively she touched his back, but he jerked away. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “You’ve done enough,” he said in a raspy voice.

  “I think I have some eyewash in here.” Reese dug around in her bag, but she kept grabbing the wrong things.

  Ben staggered to a sink she hadn’t noticed on the far wall and spit, arms braced on either side of the sink, shoulders slumped. Finally he spoke without turning. “Why would I ne
ed eyewash?”

  “Gee, I don’t know, maybe because I sprayed pepper spray in your eyes?”

  “Wrong.” He straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sprayed me in the mouth. And whatever it was, it wasn’t pepper spray.” His eyes widened. “Shit. Have I been poisoned? What did you spray me with?”

  “I don’t—well, I mean—” She looked down at the can clenched in her left hand. “Oh.”

  “Oh, what? Oh, isn’t this funny or oh, he’s going to die?”

  “Don’t be such a baby. You’re not going to die.”

  “Because … ?” He advanced on her, not stopping until he’d backed her against the paneled far wall of the room.

  She held up the spray can, grinning when he flinched. “Because it’s just breath spray.”

  “So, I just have terminally fresh breath?” He leaned closer, said breath wafting over her.

  With a swallow, she tried to hide her smile. No telling what kind of mood her recent mistake had him in, so she didn’t want to irritate him. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

  “Let’s check it out.”

  Before she could take a breath, his mouth covered hers, his cool mint breath refreshing to the heated interior of her cheeks.

  Greedy for more, she opened wider. His tongue explored her teeth, her palate, before rolling with hers.

  Weak in the knees, she leaned against the wall, allowing Ben to hold her up.

  While he kissed her, his hands explored the contours of her face, traced her ears, stroked the sides of her neck.

  Somewhere in the foggy recesses of her brain, Reese tried to remember if she’d ever been kissed as thoroughly.

  Too soon, Ben began pulling back. Her greedy mouth followed, hating to lose the warmth of his kiss.

  When he’d finally severed the connection, he straightened, a smile playing on his glistening lips. “I think you’re safe to take off the life jacket, for now.”

  Crap. So lost in his kiss, she’d totally forgotten she still wore the soaked preserver.

  Deciding to play it cool, she grinned at him and said, “Are you sure? You said, before, it was just rain, and it turned into a tropical storm. I’m not sure I can trust your judgment.”

  As though she’d slapped him, the smile left his face and he stepped back toward the hall.

  “I’m going back to the boat to make sure it’s secure. I have a rolling cooler, so I’ll bring back some supplies.”

  “Supplies?”

  “Food. And blankets. Maybe a flashlight or lantern. Toilet paper.” At her surprised look, he laughed. “We’re gonna need it sometime and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait for that time to discover the old hotel doesn’t have any.”

  “Good point.” She cleared her throat. “Do you need any help?”

  “No thanks, Blondie, but I can take that life jacket back, if you’re through with it.”

  Ben stood in the rain for a second, gripping the soggy life jacket and allowed the rain to beat down on him.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he said in a growl. Still more than half aroused, he jogged down the path toward the dock, rain sluicing down his face, obscuring his vision. What the hell had he been thinking, to kiss his meal ticket like that?

  So what if he was horny? So horny, in fact, he threw all the assets that had ever attracted him to women out the window to pant after a skinny chick who obviously thought she was better than him. That was pretty fucking horny.

  He grinned at his mental choice of words.

  If the damn storm wasn’t roaring down on them, he’d seriously consider whacking off on the boat when he went back for provisions.

  And speaking of provisions … on deck, he threw open the door and hopped down into the cabin. The cooler was right where he put it, in the closet next to the bed. Rolling it out, he proceeded to unload the contents of his refrigerator and most of the cabinets. Grabbing his duffel, he reached into the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush and some toothpaste. His hand hovered over the razor for a second; then he decided to leave it. Maybe a beard would keep Blondie from allowing him to get too close.

  Her response to his kiss earlier flashed through his mind. She hadn’t seemed to mind the growth of hair on his face.

  Grabbing a box of condoms, he tossed it into the duffel. Just in case.

  He may not have ever been a Boy Scout, but he liked to think he lived by their motto: “Be prepared.”

  14

  Reese listened to the quiet of the house while the storm roared and battered the exterior of the old hotel.

  Kissing Ben had been a very bad idea. Just recalling the way she’d felt in his arms made her damp. Damper than she’d been from the weather. A totally different kind of damp. And restless.

  Now he was telling her they were trapped there until the storm passed. How long would that take? More important, how was she going to keep her hands and lips, not to mention other body parts, away from him?

  And did she really want to do that?

  “Concentrate,” she whispered, making her way back to the front of the hotel, trying to decide if she wanted to go up and check out the guest rooms or wait for Ben to return.

  “Ha! Assuming he actually does come back!” He’d wasted no time in hightailing it back out into the elements. What would she do if he decided to wait out the storm in the relative safety of his boat?

  Testing the first stair, she decided it would hold her weight and took a cautious step. On the third step, she turned to look through the transom above the front door, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ben. All she saw was dark gray sky and rain swirling around the hotel.

  Determined, she pushed onward, not stopping until she’d reached the top of the stairs. Pausing to catch her breath, she gazed down into the lobby.

  It must have been quite lovely in its time, she mused. Even now, with a protective layer of dust coating everything, she could detect the glow of its well-worn plank floor. A little to her left, centered over the lobby, hung a dusty, cobweb-draped chandelier.

  She squinted. It was hard to tell, with the dust encrusting the cut-glass globes, but she thought she saw lightbulbs. That meant the hotel had electricity, or did at one time. Definitely a plus.

  After staring at the chandelier for a few minutes, trying to envision it cleaned up and assigning a value to it, she moved down the carpet runner of the main hallway.

  The first room to her right was empty. Large, even by today’s standards, she thought it would make a great guest room. Well, duh, she chastised herself, the place had been a hotel. Of course, it would have at least adequate guest rooms.

  She walked into the room and turned, trying to envision it with furniture. The old rose-print area rug had definitely seen better days. A peek under one corner revealed the same beautiful hardwood floor as downstairs. Unless the floor beneath the rug had hidden damage, it wouldn’t even need refinishing. Unfortunately, the closet was small, and there was no en suite bathroom. Still, it had definite potential.

  Dorinda had not mentioned whether she planned for each room to have facilities or if she planned for guests to share. Reese knew B&Bs were arranged either way, so not having a bathroom for each guest wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker.

  Although she, personally, did not like sharing.

  Thoughts of sharing reminded her of her life back home, and a wave of loneliness rushed over her.

  Maybe she could get a signal upstairs. She’d tried in the little breakfast room earlier, with no luck. She dug in her tote until she found her Blackberry and held it close to the window.

  No luck again. No signal.

  Dropping the phone in her bag, she trudged across the hall to see an identical room to the one she’d just left. The third room was smaller, but had furnishings, so it might have just appeared smaller. As she opened the door to what she was sure was another minuscule closet, she gasped in surprise to find a full en suite bathroom, complete with a huge claw-foot tub.

  A bath. She’d kil
l for a bath.

  A glance behind her confirmed Ben had not returned, so she made her way to the tub and twisted a squeaky faucet.

  Nothing happened. Not even a drop escaped the curved dusty lip.

  “Well, shoot.” Although she knew it was probably impossible, for a second she’d hoped she was wrong. In spite of being soaked for hours, she felt grimy and would have loved to soak in a nice, hot tub of water until she turned all wrinkly.

  A bump echoed up from the lobby area. Her heart tripped, then began beating frantically.

  “Lu-cy, I’m home!” Ben’s irritating voice boomed up the stairway.

  Taking her time, she walked to the open railing. Ben stood just inside the door, dripping on the old floor, clutching the handle of a large rolling cooler. His other hand held a duffel bag. A strap of some kind of backpack dug into his shoulder.

  “I’m up here,” she called down. “Do you want to come up and explore the rooms with me?”

  He plopped back on the sofa he’d used earlier. “Nah, I’ve seen them.”

  “You have?”

  “Um….sure. When I was a kid, we came here a couple of times.”

  It was difficult to tell in the growing darkness, but he seemed uncomfortable.

  She remembered the kiss they’d shared. Again. Maybe it was better if Ben stayed on another floor from her while she was looking at bedrooms.

  Restless, she continued her inspection, determined to ignore the rub of her bra on her aching nipples—nipples that hadn’t ached in a very long time.

  Not until she’d met Ben Adams.

  15

  Ben glanced around for a spot to stash the economy-size box of condoms he’d retrieved from the boat. Of course, if he made a few more blunders like he’d almost just made, he wouldn’t have to worry about it, because Blondie wouldn’t let him within ten feet of her.