Trouble [New Crescent 1] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Mary Lou George

  On closer inspection, New Crescent was even more appealing than she’d first thought. There was great character here, rich history and deep appreciation of nature. Old, majestic trees, the kind just perfect for climbing, dotted the townsquare and Main Street. Each building had a charm all its own, reflecting the taste of the owner. Pride in the town’s past was evident when she counted the number of tasteful bronze plaques identifying historic buildings. She was excited to note there was an intriguing little Wicca Museum just down the street and vowed to visit and learn more someday soon.

  Bemused and utterly enchanted with what she’d seen so far, Gillian strolled leisurely, her face alight with pleasure. She came to a halt outside a real estate office and stared transfixed at one of the pictures in the window. Ever vigilant, Hank stayed at her side. Motionless, she stood captivated by the snap shot of a Victorian house on a cliff. Her heart beat faster, reacting to something her mind wasn’t quite ready to accept or understand. The house felt strangely familiar. Compelling her, calling to her like a long forgotten dream. Was it for rent or for sale? Could she see it? Who owned it? She had to find out more and with her hand on Hank’s soft fur, they entered the real estate office.

  Chimes tinkled as the door opened. Momentarily distracted, Gillian smiled up at the charming little bell that heralded their arrival…the sound made her happy. The rightness of it all imbued her with optimism, and her confidence grew.

  The office was comfortably cool and decorated in beautiful shades of blue and green, subtly meshed. They complemented the coloring of the office’s one inhabitant, a striking blond woman sitting at a whitewashed desk, talking on the phone. She smiled at Gillian, holding up a finger to indicate she would be right with her.

  While she waited for the woman to end her conversation, Gillian took stock. The lovely real estate agent had outrageously short hair that had a careless look, as if she’d just rolled out of bed, leaving a well-satisfied man behind, exhausted. It seemed unusual that eyes the color of expensive brandy could be fringed with such thick, black eyelashes, but they were, and Gillian simply stared into them with wonder.

  Gillian knew this woman would be her friend. She sensed it. Not for a moment did she question the veracity of her instincts.

  “That’s great, Mrs. Goode, thanks so much. I have to go. The most intriguing couple just walked into my office. I’ll tell you all about it later. Bye.” She held out her hand as she stood and walked around her desk.

  “Regina Stanton, at your service…call me Reggie.”

  She had to be six feet tall and Gillian was so bemused she took the woman’s hand without thinking. The touch confirmed Gillian’s first impression. Steady and open, Regina Stanton was someone she was going to like.

  Recovering quickly, Gillian smiled up at her. “I’m Gillian Watson and this is Hank.”

  Unexpectedly, Reggie bent down and gave Hank a warm hug. “Where have you been all my life?” She ran her hands over his thick fur and scratched his haunches enthusiastically, zeroing in on a particularly pleasurable spot.

  “Careful, you’ll get his hair all over your beautiful suit,” Gillian warned.

  It was indeed, a beautiful suit. An Armani, if she didn’t miss her mark. It hugged Reggie’s curves and left no doubt she was anything other than a red-blooded woman.

  Despite her height, Reggie was utterly feminine. She dismissed Gillian’s caution with a casual gesture and continued to fuss over Hank. Gillian liked her all the more for it. There was something utterly disarming about an impeccably dressed woman making a fool of herself over a dog.

  “He’s gorgeous. People around here are going to love him. Everybody within fifty miles of town has a dog or two. Call them familiars if you will, this is New Crescent after all, throw a rock and you hit someone descended from accused witches. People always associate cats with witches, but for folks in these parts, dogs play that role. Some can even trace their lineage back to the ones our founders brought with them when they settled this area.” Reggie smiled up at Gillian. “You don’t see many like this fellow though…a Great Pyrenees, right?”

  Gillian nodded. “So I’m told. I don’t have his Kennel Club papers or anything but who cares. He’s family.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have papers for my parents, but I still call them Mom and Dad. Come, have a seat.” Laughing, she ushered them to a small sitting area where Hank sprawled at their feet with a sigh. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I was interested in a house you have in the window—the Victorian one on the cliff.”

  Reggie smiled knowingly. “Ah, that would be Ernestine Sinclair’s house.”

  “I didn’t expect to be looking to buy anything, but I can’t seem to resist it.” She paused for a second and tapped a finger to her temple. “Come to think of it, no wonder it’s so familiar to me. When I was a little girl my parents gave me a dollhouse like it. I used to wish someday I could live in that house. And here it is, actual size and on the water, too. What more could I ask?” Gillian knew she was babbling but couldn’t help herself.

  Reggie sat back and mused, “Well, this is certainly a unique house. It was built by one of the oldest families in these parts, and it’s been in that family for generations. The owner is a real character. Ernestine is picky about who she’ll let see the place.”

  “A beautiful place like that must get a lot of interest.”

  “Oh, a ton of people have made offers, including her own nephew, but the grand old gal rejected him without hesitation, wouldn’t even consider it. She says she’ll know when the right person comes along.”

  Gillian laughed. “She sounds eccentric.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Reggie rolled her eyes. “She’s an old family friend, a bit of a legend around here actually, so I do what I’m told. In fact, everyone seems to fall in with her plans somehow. We like to think she adds even more character to our town. This is not your run-of-the mill sort of place. You’ll see.” She smiled widely. “The whole town was surprised when she put the place on the market, but Ernestine always has a reason. I could call and ask her if she’d let me show you around, but I’m afraid I can make no promises.”

  “It’s worth a try. I’d love to see the place.”

  “Nothing ventured…” Reggie walked to her desk to make the call.

  Gillian looked down at the dog and whispered, “Well, Hank, this is a bit of a surprise, huh? I can’t believe I’m doing this. There’s just something about that house.” He tilted his head and blinked at her appearing completely nonplussed.

  Reggie came back to the sofa where Gillian was sitting. “Miss Ernestine was resting and couldn’t be disturbed, but I was assured she’d return my call today. Are there any other properties you’re interested in?”

  Gillian shook her head with regret. “I’m surprised I want to look at anything, really. No, if this doesn’t work out I’ll just stay where I am.”

  “And where is that may I ask? I know just about everyone in town and every place that’s available, and I didn’t get wind of you. I’d like to find out how I missed you two.” She laughed.

  “I’m staying at Marcus Stevens’s house on Park Street.”

  Reggie’s reaction was immediate. Her laughter stopped abruptly, and she started to cough.

  “Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that one.” She choked, tapping an elegant hand to her chest. With a self-conscious laugh, she explained, “That was a surprise. I’ve known Marcus since we were kids. He hasn’t been here in a while. Have you known him long?” Instantly, the atmosphere in the real estate office changed. The other woman tensed, and Gillian felt uncomfortable. She liked Reggie so much and hoped she’d made her first friend in New Crescent. Gillian worried she’d somehow blown it. Even Hank felt the change in the air. He whined and sat up, putting his head in his mistress’s lap.

  Eager to set Reggie at her ease again, Gillian made light of her relationship with Marcus.

  “Marcus and I are neighbors in the city. We’ve
known each other since I moved into my condo. I had an accident a little while ago, and ended up in the hospital. My friends all but deserted me during the whole ordeal, but not Marcus. He’s been unbelievably generous to me. He insisted I use his house for my recuperation.”

  All of it was the truth except for leaving out the part about how she was becoming more and more attracted to the man and how he seemed to be returning her interest. It wasn’t important at the moment, Gillian decided. She liked Regina Stanton. They’d tackle that little hurdle later, if necessary.

  A genuine look of concern and sympathy was reflected in Reggie’s eyes. “I’m so sorry about your accident. I hope you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking. Maybe when you have a few hours I’ll bore you with the whole story over a meal.”

  “Food…you’re definitely on. Anytime you want. In fact, I’ll bring the wine. Can Hank come?” She laughed and the mood in the office lightened. Hank sighed and Gillian once again relaxed, enjoying Reggie’s company.

  “Hank? He goes where I go. He’s my lifeline.” Gillian caressed the dog’s soft head with a smile.

  “I can’t believe Marcus is too happy about that. I don’t remember him ever having a pet, and that’s unusual for someone born in this town.”

  Gillian looked rueful. “He’s allergic, so he’s forced to keep a friendly distance, poor guy.”

  “Well, that explains it, I guess. Hmm…curious, I didn’t know he was allergic to anything. Well, there you go, you think you know someone.” She was pensive for a moment. “Anyway, I can’t show you around Ernestine’s house until I hear from her, but we can drive out there and take a look at the outside, if you’d like. I assure you, it’s worth it.”

  As if understanding what she’d suggested, Hank jumped up and hurried to the door.

  Gillian grinned. “It looks like Hank’s already answered that question for me.”

  Reggie locked up the office and escorted them to a late model Land Rover parked out front.

  * * * *

  Across the street from the real estate office, Travis Sinclair stood motionless. Damn it, there she was again. The woman with the mammoth white dog was impossible to miss. Normally, the sight of the dog itself would have drawn his glance, but he was far more focused on the woman talking to Reggie. In that moment, Travis knew he’d been celibate far too long. Generally, he didn’t deny his physical needs, but lately, he’d been too busy settling in as sheriff to tend to more earthy matters. Too late, he realized ignoring his perfectly healthy desires had been a mistake. His reaction to this woman was off the chart, in a pimply fourteen-year-old kind of way. He shifted.

  Usually going for curvy blondes, he was surprised by his strong reaction to the chestnut-haired beauty. What was she? Five feet six inches, tops? That didn’t matter, he knew just exactly where her head would rest if…hell, forget if…when she wrapped herself around him. He envisioned exactly how they’d fit together, and knew he’d get no sleep that night.

  “Get a grip, man,” he said to himself. Sure she was hot, but he’d known lots of hot women…in the Biblical sense even. What was it that made this particular woman so different? A place like New Crescent attracted all kinds of interesting people, what was so special about her? His heaving gut told him that before long he’d learn her story. It was just a matter of time.

  Chapter 3

  Gillian felt a burning sensation as she walked out of the real estate office, and it had nothing to do with the blazing sun. He was there. From across the street his narrowed eyes seemed to bore a hole through her skin. Even from this distance, she could feel his presence. His shoulders took up the entire doorway. His body dwarfed everything around him.

  “Do they make clothes that big?” Gillian wondered silently. He wore a white shirt with the cuffs rolled up and the top button left open to reveal his strong tanned throat. Seeing him again caused a general craving originating somewhere in her belly. It was hard to define. She could imagine the taste of his exposed skin—salty, with a musky tang, was her guess. The warm summer day grew hotter.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to get out of the office.” Reggie’s voice startled Gillian out of her trance. At that moment, the man turned and walked back into the sheriff’s office.

  Not fast enough to escape Reggie’s notice however. “I see you’ve caught sight of our local sheriff. Yummy, isn’t he?” She laughed, delighted at Gillian’s dazed expression.

  “Travis has that effect on us all, my girl, but he’s really a great guy. Unfortunately, he’s like family to me, so I don’t see him that way. We tried it once when we were in our teens, but it was like kissing your brother. Ugh.”

  Reggie gave Gillian a knowing look. “By the looks of it you’ll meet him before too long. He used to be some big shot FBI agent, but decided to come back home and protect us all. There’s just something about New Crescent. Our native-born make their way back here, one way or another.”

  Reggie shrugged. “It just gets under your skin and gives you a feeling of belonging. There have been cases, however, of perfect strangers feeling its pull as well. Maybe you’re one of them.”

  She smiled slyly and added, “Destiny.”

  She opened the door and ushered Hank and Gillian into her vehicle.

  Thankfully, she talked happily about the good and bad of New Crescent so Gillian didn’t have to say much during the drive. She was still feeling a little odd after her encounters with the sheriff, if they could be called that. From fifty yards away, his stare alone curled her toes. She had no intention of getting any closer to the man.

  Reggie spoke enthusiastically about the area.

  “You probably don’t know this, but during the Salem witch trials, New Crescent acted as a sanctuary for people fleeing persecution. Those that made it here were protected. Three legendary sisters founded this town. The kind of women, some say witches, who embraced their connection to nature, and wielded a palpable power.” As she drove the car into a private driveway, she continued, “Ernestine Sinclair is that kind of woman. She’s an enigma to most, but she’s the heart of this town…our Guardian.”

  Gillian liked the sound of Ernestine Sinclair and her anticipation grew.

  The house was all Gillian could have hoped for. It had a wide covered porch that surrounded the entire house, providing shade from the relentless sun. There was an exciting kind of intentional wildness here that appealed to Gillian. Someone had really loved the place. Her ultra-keen senses could feel the echoes of that love. It looked a little sad though, sitting on the cliff all alone and ignored. This was a house that needed to be brought back to life with people. Dogs too, if Hank was any indication. He made himself right at home, sniffing around the garden and chasing butterflies. It was a rather whimsical sight, the massive white dog frolicking with vibrant-colored butterflies, as the surf crashed against the shore at the foot of the cliff. Gillian’s attachment to the house grew stronger.

  “It’s just as appealing around back,” Reggie said. “Here, this way.” She led them through the gate, along an old stone path to the back of the house. Gillian sighed when she saw the isolated beach below the cliff. There was a small swimming pool in the backyard and a gazebo perched on the edge of the cliff.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” Reggie flashed a smug smile. “From the front you’d never know there was so much space around back. It looks like the house backs right out onto the edge of the cliff doesn’t it? But surprise, surprise, a decent-sized backyard with a pool! Who knew? I have so many fond memories of this place. It needs to be lived in, loved. Gillian, I hope this works out for you.”

  “Well, at the moment I’m not really sure what ‘this’ is.” Gillian waved a slim arm towards the house. “This is our first day in town. I had no plans to settle down here permanently. I’ve been taking things one day at a time lately, but there is something about this place I can’t resist. Do you think I have a chance?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m never sure with Ernestine. As I said before
, she’s never even allowed a potential buyer to see the inside of the house. I dance to her tune, as always. We’ll have to wait and see when she calls me back. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  She turned toward the ocean. “Do you want to see the gazebo?”

  “Sure. Is there a path down to the beach here?”

  “Ah yes, and it’s in excellent repair. They managed to maintain the cliff’s natural, untouched beauty. Look, you can see it from here.” She guided Gillian to the railing of the gazebo that afforded the best view of the path to the beach.

  “Breathtaking. I can’t believe it. It’s so great that some big conglomerate hasn’t bought up all this land and built condos or something.”

  “We have the Old families to thank for that, God bless `em,” Reggie explained. “You see, the Sinclairs own most of this land and they would never sell. Neither would the other families. It’s like a promise made to our ancestors. We make our homes here happily, and respect our history. We’re lucky, we’re not that far from Portland so the commute isn’t too bad.”

  She looked out at the glistening sea and shielded her eyes with a hand. “I can’t see anyone selling for many years to come, at least not in my lifetime. That’s probably why Ernestine is so cautious about who purchases this house. It needs to be lived in and loved by someone who wants to be a part of our community, not someone who will flip it so it can be demolished and the property developed.”

  Gillian looked stricken at the thought and interjected, “Philistines!”

  The two women exchanged nods of agreement and turned once again to the sea. The sunlight danced on the waves as sailboats of various sizes dotted the horizon. The odd speedboat interrupted the peaceful scene as they roared by.

  “Shall we take the path down to the beach?” Reggie glanced at her shoes. “I think I’ll take these things off. My name is Regina Stanton, and I’m a shoe-a-holic.” With her hand firmly on the railing, she slipped the three-inch heels off.