Island Nights

by P. J. Mellor

  “What?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess.”

  He finished filling a bucket and lifted it with a grunt. “Grab that candle and close the door for me, will you?”

  They made slow progress, avoiding most of the sloshing from the bucket.

  “There’s some dishwashing liquid in that cabinet, grab it and squirt some in,” he said. When she turned questioning eyes on him, he forced a small smile. “I checked stuff out while you were upstairs earlier.”

  After she’d added the liquid, he set the bucket on the table. “I’m going to fill another one to rinse the dishes in. We can heat them at the same time.”

  “How?”

  “There’s a pot rack in the big fireplace in the lobby. You can hang two things at the same time. Didn’t you watch when I cooked?”

  “Um, I guess I didn’t pay much attention.” That would be because she’d been too busy watching his butt.

  “Now what are you doing?”

  Looking back from the bay window, she frowned. “I’m trying to get a signal. I need to make some calls.”

  “Who do you need to call?”

  “My friends Paige and Bailey. I know they’re probably worried about me. I haven’t talked to them since right after I checked in yesterday.”

  “Blondie, you’re in the middle of nowhere. Hard as it is to believe, there isn’t any signal of any kind. You didn’t notice a television. There’s a reason for that.”

  “But what did people do if there was an emergency? Smoke signals?”

  He paused and pumped the second bucket of water, then turned to answer. “I don’t know,” he lied. “There’s a good-size dock. They probably had boats someone could take to get help or go to the doctor or hospital. What’s your problem? Is it so difficult for you to go without modern conveniences for a day or two?”

  She straightened and glared at him. “If you can do it, I can do it.”

  Oh, yeah, it was turning out to be an interesting night.

  18

  All conversation stopped when Paige and Bailey walked into the restaurant of the Sand Dollar Inn.

  “Two?” A smiling woman in her midthirties with dark hair walked up to the hostess stand and picked up some menus.

  “Yes!” Bailey shoved past Paige, then looked back apologetically. “After the ordeal to get here from the airport, I’m starving!”

  That caught the woman’s attention. “You wouldn’t, by chance, have a reservation here?”

  Paige nodded. “Yes, I’m Dr. Benvent. I reserved a double. This is—”

  “Ms. Ryan?” The woman was looking flustered. “I don’t understand. I sent Rick to pick you up hours ago. Where is he?”

  “Right here,” Rick said as he walked up behind Paige. “I had a little car trouble. Then it took me a while to find them, since they were wandering around. Looking for me, I suppose.” He took a deep breath and patted his stomach. “But we’re here now and I’m ready to eat.”

  “Since when do you pull the doctor card?” Bailey whispered as they followed their hostess.

  “Since I’m tired and ready to leave this Podunk place before we’ve even seen our room, much less found Reese.” She shrugged. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt and maybe we might possibly get faster and better service. You did say you were starving.”

  As the woman showed them to a table by the window with a great view of the water, people began resuming their meals and conversations.

  Well, most of them did.

  “Paige,” Bailey said in a whisper, leaning across the linen tablecloth, “I think the guy over in the corner is checking you out.”

  “How do you know he’s not checking you out?” Paige continued staring at the menu. She’d noticed the man, all right, as soon as she’d entered the dining room. What living, breathing, heterosexual woman wouldn’t?

  “Um, because he’s staring directly at you.” She nudged Paige’s menu. “Maybe he’ll ask to join you,” she said in an excited voice.

  Paige took a deep breath, closed her menu, then blinked at Bailey. “Ri-ight. And then he’ll let me strip him and fuck him, right here on the table.” Bailey gasped, eyes wide. “Oh, come on, Bay, like any of that’s going to happen.”

  “I’d have to insist you buy me a drink first,” a smooth, deep voice drawled from directly behind Paige.

  She swallowed and glared at Bailey.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  Bailey nodded, her wild red hair flying around her head like living flames.

  A heavy finger tapped Paige’s shoulder. “I’m right here and I can hear you.”

  Shit.

  She closed her eyes briefly. No point in prolonging things.

  Turning in the padded chair, she looked up, way up, at the man standing next to her chair.

  Well, it would not do for her to remain seated, allowing him the dominant position, would it?

  After carefully folding her napkin, she stood and extended her hand.

  “I suppose,” she said with a small smile—which was absolutely not a flirtatious one, despite what Bailey may try to claim later—”if we’re going to do that, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Dr. Benvent.”

  His big, warm hand was dry and slightly rough when it enveloped hers and gave it a hearty shake.

  “Oh, yeah? A gen-u-ine doctor?” He flashed a blazing smile that was cleary as phony as it was white. “Well, golly. Imagine that.”

  She ground her teeth, carefully maintaining her smile. Something about the look in the hunk’s eyes told her he was making fun of her.

  She hated when that happened.

  “And you are … ?” Thank goodness she finally managed to find her voice.

  “Oh, pardon, ma’am.” He pumped her hand again, tightening his grip when she attempted to disengage her hand. “I’m Brett McAllister.” He leaned closer, his full golden brown eyelashes framing sparkling green eyes. “But you can call me Doctor McAllister, if you’d like.”

  “Paige, he’s a doctor too!” Bailey gushed inanely.

  After shooting her friend a look, she returned to gazing into Dr. Dreamy’s eyes for a second before giving herself a mental shake. “Yes, I heard,” she told Bailey, without breaking the all-important eye contact. Or the handshake. “I’m an internist. What type of doctor are you, Dr. McAllister?” Probably a veterinarian.

  She noted a faint flush on his clean-shaven cheeks.

  “Got me.” He spoke in a less hick-sounding voice and grinned. “Oh, I’m a doctor, but it’s a Ph.D.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “I see. What type of doctorate?”

  That grin was back, in full wattage. The grin that made her weak in the knees. And damp in other spots she’d prefer not thinking about at that particular moment.

  The rough pad of his thumb caressed the back of her hand. Her pulse raced.

  “Animal husbandry,” he said in a low, intimate voice. A voice so smooth, it made her mouth water. It made her nipples harden.

  “Have y’all decided what you’d like?” The woman was back, pen poised over her pad. “Oh, hi, Brett. Are you going to be joining the ladies tonight?”

  Under his breath, in a voice so low only Paige could detect it, he murmured, “Define joining.”

  Paige jerked her hand away and reclaimed her seat. With a flourish, she picked up her menu. But instead of the daily specials and other tempting items, all she could see was an image of her and Brett, naked, writhing on the linen tablecloth.

  She slammed the menu shut and looked up at him in horror.

  He had the nerve to wink as he pulled a chair over and sat down.

  “I believe I will, Rita, if that’s okay?” Bailey nodded her agreement, despite Paige’s meaningful kick under the table.

  “Ouch.” Brett frowned at her.

  She bared her teeth in what she hoped passed for a repentant smile. Then again, what did she really care?

  After they’d given their orders, Brett rubbed his big hands together and g
rinned at Paige. “Well, Doc, what do you think? Should we wait until after dessert or just fornicate right here while we wait?”

  19

  Dishes done and put away, Reese and Ben sat by the fire while the storm continued to rage.

  “I haven’t noticed any leaks,” Reese said, “how about you?”

  Damn well better not be any leaks. He’d spent the better part of a summer replacing the roof a few years back. “Nope.”

  He yawned and stretched, lowering his arm to rest on her shoulders. Not very original, but it pleased him to see she didn’t shirk him off.

  For show, he rubbed her upper arm. “Still cold?”

  “No, I’m really comfortable. Why?”

  “Well, if you haven’t found any leaks and you are comfortable, I think we can agree it’s safe to remove the life jacket now.”

  “What? Oh! Well, I just wanted to be prepared, you know, in case there was a flash flood or something.”

  He regarded her for a moment, hoping she wasn’t going to make another Boy Scout reference. The condoms he’d stashed under the cushions made him feel guilty, which was stupid. “If we had a flash flood up here, a life jacket wouldn’t help you.”

  Reese unbuckled the vest and he helped her take it off. “I guess I don’t need it now.” Their gazes met. “I have to be honest. I thought it would work as protection. You know,” she continued when he just stared at her, “an added barrier between us? After what happened?” She pointed upward.

  “I told you I wouldn’t bring that up again. Didn’t you believe me?”

  “Well, yes, I guess. It’s just that, well, we’re the only ones here. Anything could happen….”

  “Oh!” Paige’s teeth clicked against Brett’s as he slammed her against the wall of her hotel room. His hand snaked beneath her skirt and tugged until he’d stripped off her thong and tossed it aside.

  For that brief second pause in the action, she was eminently grateful to Bailey for deciding to get her own room.

  Then Brett was back, shoving her skirt up around her waist, his hardness bucking against her eager wetness as he bumped her against the cool plaster of the wall.

  “Strip,” she demanded in a hoarse whisper. “I want to watch every inch as it’s bared for my pleasure.”

  Sure, she’d used that line a few times. And it had always worked with predictable success. Men loved to feel lusted after, and were only too happy to play stripper for her.

  Of course, she’d never been with anyone like Brett.

  He paused and looked down at her, the soft glow from the hallway doing amazing things for his chiseled features.

  He stepped away and closed her door, then flipped the lock.

  More turned-on than she could remember being in recent years, she struggled to maintain her breathing as he slowly stalked toward her, his green eyes glowing with intent.

  “You first,” he said in a low voice that stroked her senses and made her wet. Wetter.

  Without waiting or asking for permission, he pulled her to him for another carnal kiss she felt all the way to the soles of her now-bare feet.

  The zipper of her skirt echoed in the quiet, the only sound in the room except their labored breathing.

  The skirt fell to the floor.

  Before she could step out of it, he lifted her with one iron-muscled arm around her waist.

  With his free hand, he unbuttoned her blouse, then pushed it from her shoulders, where she shrugged it off.

  Her bra was next and he popped open the front closure with an obviously experienced hand. Tugging it down, he tossed it aside.

  Hanging from his arm, naked, she was at a definite disadvantage. Just as she was about to try to form the words to say something, anything, his hot breath fanned her nipple.

  Immediately his heat encompassed her breast as he sucked greedily, not stopping until he had it and the upper part of her breast deep in the wet heat of his mouth.

  Shocked, she almost came then and there.

  Locking her legs around his lean waist, she rubbed her aching center shamelessly against the hard ridge on the front of his jeans.

  He switched his attention to the other nipple and she whimpered.

  Desperate to get closer, she clawed at his shoulder, tearing at his shirt until the buttons gave way.

  With a growl of frustration, she pushed at the shirt.

  He lumbered to the bed and placed her on the mattress, following her down, never relinquishing her nipple. Worrying it with his teeth, he removed his shirt and dropped it to the soft carpet on the floor.

  His mouth left her. Temporarily. Before she could utter a protest, he shucked his pants and, naked, climbed fully onto the bed. As he moved toward her, he pushed her knees back until they hugged her ears, exposing her completely.

  She knew she should be embarrassed, she thought, as the cooler air of the room fanned her wetness. After all, they were basically strangers. But she found she couldn’t work up that particular emotion. All she felt was sexy, erotic, potentially orgasmic pleasure.

  The next thought gave her pause.

  It felt right.

  Then Brett lowered his head and softly blew against her exposed flesh, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through her body, puckering her nipples.

  The first swipe of his tongue made her jerk. The whisper of his breath as he again blew on her wetness made her muscles vibrate with pleasure. As a physician, she knew it was physically impossible to die from sexual pleasure. Then his tongue probed her and she forgot to think for a long time.

  20

  When Reese returned from brushing her teeth, she saw Ben had made a pallet in front of the fire.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to keep her tone of voice neutral. After all, she was more attracted to Ben than she’d been to anyone in a very long time. And she was horny.

  And she’d seen him naked.

  Well, okay, not technically naked. Just his erection. But, despite what she’d said, it had been pretty dang impressive. Or else she was desperate. Or both.

  “Find everything okay?” Instead of answering her, like a normal person, he looked at the fire.

  “All I needed was some water. There was plenty in the pail by the sink. Would you like to borrow some of my toothpaste?” On the off chance they kissed again, she wouldn’t mind not tasting beer.

  “Already did.” He flashed a smile. “Thanks. I used my own toothbrush, in case you were wondering.”

  “No, I—really. When did you do that?”

  “While you were upstairs covering the furniture.”

  Sinking to sit next to him, she resisted the temptation to snuggle against him. It wasn’t like they were on a date or anything. Heck, they didn’t even particularly like each other.

  “I still don’t know why you insisted on doing that,” he grumbled, leaning back on his elbows.

  “We’re not one hundred percent sure the roof doesn’t leak. I’d hate for the furniture to get ruined. Besides,” she said as she pulled one of the quilts over her and settled into the soft bedding, “I was the one who uncovered everything. I felt sort of obligated to replace the dustcovers.”

  He grunted in reply and lay down, hands behind his head, to stare at the ceiling.

  The fire crackled and popped. Outside, the rain continued to pelt the hotel. Reese could hear the steady stream of water running down the ancient drainpipes. Try as she might to ignore the urge, it became impossible.

  “Ben?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you think the toilets work?”

  A rude-sounding laugh escaped him. “Not damn likely. You told me you tried the faucets. No water means no water, Blondie. Anywhere.” He rolled to his side and looked down at her. “Oh! I get it. You have to go.” He shrugged. “There’s an old outhouse out back.”

  “But it’s raining. And dark.”

  “I brought some flashlights. Aw, hell, come on.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll go with you and carry the flashlight. Y
ou can hold a blanket over your head.”

  “What do you mean, you’ll go with me? I don’t think so, mister! I don’t know how they do things in Sand Dollar, but I do not use coed toilet facilities!”

  His laughter echoed in the lobby. “Relax. I’ll wait my turn. Or use a tree while you’re in the outhouse.”

  Her shudder earned another laugh.

  The rain seemed louder by the back door. They stood, poised on the back porch, protected from the worst of the rain by the overhang of the roof.

  Despite the urgency she felt, she hesitated. “I think it’s raining harder.”

  Beneath their quilt, she felt his shoulders shrug. “Doesn’t really matter. If you gotta go, you gotta go.” He flicked on the large flashlight he held in his right hand and circled her shoulder closer with his left arm. “C’mon, let’s get this over with so we can get some sleep.”

  “Are you sure that’s the place?” Holding back, he halfway dragged her down the stairs.

  “Pretty sure.”

  Cold, wet clumps of grass tickled her ankles as she stumbled along, trying to keep up with his longer strides. At least, she hoped it was grass.

  “Here,” he said when they stopped in front of a door of a building the size of a large shed. “You take the flashlight. I’ll wait here.”

  Praying she didn’t find anything that wasn’t supposed to be in there, Reese eased open the creaky door of the old outhouse. It didn’t smell fresh, but probably because it hadn’t been used in many years. It didn’t smell as foul as she’d anticipated either.

  “Snakes,” she said in a loud whisper, “I’m coming in. I just need to use the, um, facilities, and then I’ll be out of your way. Okay?”

  “Who the hell are you talking to?” Ben threw open the door, causing her to jump and scream. Rain pelted her face.

  “Snakes,” she answered, casting the flashlight beam around to make sure she was alone.

  “Quit clowning around. There are no snakes. Now hurry up!”

  The door banged shut. The beam of the light touched on the plank walls. Someone had actually tried to decorate the outhouse at one time, as was evidenced by the framed pictures hanging from nails. The wood of the actual facility was sanded smooth and varnished, with somewhat modern toilet seats on the holes. From the high ceiling hung a single lightbulb and she wondered if the former owners had used it for the servants.