August Unknown

by Pamela Fryer

  “Chai tea latte on the way home from Portland.”

  She grasped his tie and slid her fingers through the buttons of his shirt. Geoffrey leaned away only to pry open the knot and shrug out of his shirt. He rose and kicked the door shut, locked it, but didn’t bother to turn on the light. The rising moon shining through the window sheers illuminated the room just enough.

  No, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her. He used a fireplace match to light the decorative candle arrangement on the mantel. As the room filled with soft golden light, he made a mental note to tell Leah last year’s Christmas gift wasn’t frilly, after all.

  Emily released the Velcro and removed her sling. “Can you help me with this?” She swung her knees over the side and sat up to remove her clingy knitted tee. She pulled it over her head to reveal a black lace bra, and eased her right arm free. “Stretch it over my cast.”

  For a moment he could only stand there, gazing at her. God, she was so beautiful. Her skin was like creamy milk, the lush curves of her body smooth and toned. Her breasts were generous, her stomach flat with lean lines.

  He wrenched his feet from the floor where they seemed to have taken root, and knelt before her.

  While she supported her arm at the elbow, Geoffrey gently stretched the sleeve and pulled it over her cast. She kicked her sneakers off and leaned back on the bed. With her good hand, she pulled her hair from beneath her neck. It fanned out across his pillow in shining gold ribbons.

  She was the most gorgeous vision he’d ever seen, pure and real, lying there in nothing but that lacey bra and a pair of frayed Levi’s jeans faded nearly white.

  She sat up again, and started working the button on his pants.

  “God, August,” he said when she finally released them and pushed them over his hips. Too late, he realized his mistake. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Call me that if you like.”

  He moaned when she pulled on his boxers, tugging them over an embarrassingly high tent in the front. She took his hand, urging him down with her as she leaned back. In one fluid movement, he kicked off his loafers and the tangle of clothing swirling at his ankles.

  And then skin came against skin in a glorious explosion of sensation, their bodies burning hot in comparison to the cool silk of the coverlet beneath them.

  He held himself above her on one elbow as he brushed across her cheekbone with his thumb.

  “Touch me,” she told him.

  He did: gladly, determinedly, desperately. She was more beautiful than he’d imagined, with hair like beams of moonlight, and skin as soft as rose petals. He would have liked to thrust himself inside her and close his eyes to lose himself forever, but a tiny nagging voice reminded him this might be the one and only time they would be together.

  Make this last, fool, that voice told him. He was equally content to kiss a path across every inch of her, over the mounds and into the hollows, committing her to memory. He explored every bump and ridge as he made his way down her neck, across her throat, over her collarbone and between her breasts.

  Would she regret this later? A selfish part of him didn’t care, but he glanced into her eyes anyway, just to be sure. Hers held a dreamy pleasure, and he knew she had no second thoughts.

  “Emily,” he whispered.

  “Love me,” she said.

  He did.

  The rest of the world disappeared and it was only them, joined in the most primal and intimate way possible, moving with each other in simple, beautiful harmony.

  * * *

  He awoke in the middle of the night to find her leaned up on her good arm, her cast balanced on the opposite hip as she stared down at him.

  “Hi,” she whispered. The nearly burnt candle tossed amber light over the curves of her body.

  After the first time they’d made love, he’d risen, walked around the bed to look at her beautiful nakedness from all angles, and then pulled the blankets down so they could nest under the covers. The heat of their two bodies had become too much, and sometime later they’d kicked them off.

  She’d straddled him, and he’d held her hand with one of his and balanced her cast with the other. He’d never imagined how erotic it could be to watch her love him this way. She’d gently lowered herself onto him, controlling every movement and sensation. He’d been content to lie back and let her take him on a slow, languid journey toward incomprehensible pleasure.

  “Hi,” he said back. When her stomach rumbled, he realized he hadn’t eaten, either. “Hungry?”

  “Hmmm, a little.”

  “Did you eat dinner?”

  She shook her head. “I drove straight here without stopping.”

  “Gran’s coffee cake is in the refrigerator.”

  She smiled, her eyes twinkling in the wan light. “Don’t tempt me.”

  He wanted to tempt her, and so much more. He rose and padded to the dresser to retrieve a pair of silk pajamas. He slipped into the lower half, and then helped her into the top. After easing the wide sleeve carefully over her cast, he pulled the top over her head, and then hauled her close and kissed her deeply.

  “Do you need your sling?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be okay without it for a while.”

  He held her for a long moment, looking into her eyes. She stared up at him with that same, dreamy look. Was she thinking about a future here? Lord, if he only knew what he could say or do to help her choose to stay.

  Before he could stop his thoughts, he wondered how she’d convinced that rambunctious young man to let her out of his sight.

  “Does...Colin know you’re here?” Idiot, you always know the right thing to say.

  Her expression sobered ever so slightly. “He doesn’t need to know.” She grasped his hand, lacing her fingers within his. “What goes on between you and me doesn’t concern him.”

  He didn’t ask how long she would stay. He didn’t want to know the answer. Just enjoy what you have.

  They walked hand in hand through the dark house to the kitchen. The living room was still glowing blue. Peering in, they saw Derek sprawled across a floor pillow, snoring. A circle of saliva stained the fabric.

  “Shhh.” Geoffrey pulled her toward the foyer to go around the other way.

  Emily stopped him and pointed. “Look.”

  An empty pint-sized bottle stuck out from under the edge of the pillow. Geoffrey shook his head, determined to ignore it.

  But when he looked back at Emily, she was smiling wickedly. She crooked a finger at him to follow. Once in the kitchen, she retrieved a pen from the oversized coffee mug by the phone. “There’s more than one way to teach someone a lesson.” She removed its cap and pantomimed a curly mustache below her nose.

  He grinned and took the pen. Her eyebrows crept up as Emily retrieved a permanent marker from the mug and offered it to him instead.

  “You’ve got a mischievous streak.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I do.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “But I won’t do anything that might keep him from taking that modeling job back in New York.”

  Emily shrugged and slotted the permanent marker back into the coffee mug.

  They tiptoed back into the living room and ever so slowly, Geoffrey drew a Dick Dastardly mustache under Derek’s nose.

  “There. Now he’s Derek Dastardly.”

  Emily covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

  Derek was clearly out for the count, so they didn’t bother being quiet as they went back to the kitchen. Geoffrey poured them each a glass of orange juice and served a single, giant slice of coffee cake onto a plate. Between bites, he fed Emily small mouthfuls, enjoying the way she delicately closed her lips over the fork each time.

  He remembered how pale and sad she’d looked when he first saw her in the hospital, and how even then she’d been remarkably beautiful. Now, with her health and happiness restored, she positively glowed with vitality, exactly like he knew she would that first day.

  She remem
bered her past, yet she’s here with me. Geoffrey knew only of the determined young man who wanted her as his wife; yet he, and whatever else waited for her in her past, was not enough to convince her away.

  She’s here with me, he thought in awe. Me, the football captain’s brother. It was amazing, miraculous, and wonderful.

  But would she stay?

  * * *

  Morning sickness forced her out of bed before the sun was up. A hot shower always made it better. Since she was dressed by six a.m., she decided to make another pass at the beach house.

  Emily’s car still sat next to Barthlow’s gargantuan SUV. A sheen of dew pebbled the windshield. Now that the little bitch remembered who she was and where she lived, there could only be one reason she was here.

  “And I’ll bet it wasn’t to stay in the guest room.”

  Emily was probably playing them both. Tramp. A bitch doesn’t change her stripes.

  Colin deserved better. Hell, Geoffrey deserved better, but she didn’t give a shit about him.

  Yesterday afternoon, she’d been relieved and excited to follow Emily back to Newport. Her choice to return to Geoffrey meant Colin might be free after all.

  But after a wretched night spent puking up her dinner in the cheap hotel downtown, her mood was foul. She understood it didn’t matter who Emily chose. Gone didn’t mean forgotten. If the slut hadn’t already remembered what happened on the boat, she would soon.

  No, it was time to finish what was started the night of the storm.

  Emily had to die.

  * * *

  Emily quietly pulled the front door closed and breathed in the cold, moist air. The morning was blanketed in fog and the air held the coming chill of winter. On the other side of the house, the ocean crashed against the beach in its never-ending surge and pull.

  It was wonderful here, but it was wonderful in Astoria, too. Colin had been her whole life, and there was sweet comfort in the familiar. Geoffrey was a magnificent new discovery, and there was brilliance in new love.

  She hadn’t slept at all, but the drowsy fatigue from a night of making love felt wonderful. After sharing the coffee cake, they’d returned to bed and made love a fourth time so slowly and tenderly it hadn’t been so much an act, but a passage of time spent as one. Geoffrey was a fantastic, tender, and generous lover, whereas Colin could be called...energetic.

  Last night had been beautiful, and she wouldn’t take it back for the world, but it had not been fair to Geoffrey. What would happen to him if she chose Colin?

  Emily now knew she could find her way in a new world, but did she want to? There was something deeply reassuring about familiarity, especially since she’d come so precariously close to losing it. But there was also something magical in new discoveries, and embarking on the unknown.

  How could she ever choose between them? She loved them both so powerfully, and couldn’t imagine being without either of them.

  She started her car, ran the wipers once across the windshield, and pulled onto the narrow street leading to the highway. Once up on the crest above the house, she looked out over the water. In some places, she could see the frothy waves creeping over the sand, but on others, the ocean was completely obscured by the fog.

  Colin hated sailing in weather like this, but it had always excited her. The day she’d passed her United States Coast Guard rating for stellar seamanship, the weather had been thick with fog like this. She now remembered that day, and how she’d handled the boat with confidence as the Coast Guard agent watched.

  She thought back to the town she and Geoffrey had driven through and how she’d wondered if she came from a fishing family, or a mining family. In the early years when she helped out her dad, she had enjoyed herself, and later it had become her job, but she had never actually chosen seamanship for her future. It had gone unsaid, but been expected, that she would step into the family business.

  Maybe she didn’t need to make a choice now. Maybe this was time she deserved to claim for herself. She’d nearly died—she had the right to be a little selfish. She’d always flirted with the fantasy of attending culinary school. Maybe now was the time.

  But she couldn’t do that to Colin or Geoffrey. She was deeply embedded in both their lives, and they deserved an answer.

  She pulled Cherry Pit into a front parking spot at the Mirthful Mermaid, and then realized it wasn’t even eight a.m. The only other car there was the van driven by the owner of the hardware store next door.

  She heard spraying water in the alley. Jose was hosing down the garbage cans.

  “Good morning, Jose. Is Millie up yet?”

  Jose looked up and smiled. “Oh, hello, Miss August. She gone to Woodland for farmers market. You want to go inside? The door is open here.” He gestured to the side door.

  Although a cup of hot coffee was almost too good to pass up, so was the first foggy morning of fall. “I think I’ll go sit on the pier for a while. If Millie comes back, tell her I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  She trotted across the deserted highway to the marina. Cloaked in the haze, the foghorn rolled its deep call, and the harbor buoy’s bell rang on the gently rolling waves.

  She walked slowly down the path to pier fifteen and entered Geoffrey’s code in the electronic keypad. Before she could finish, the gate eased open under the pressure of her fingers. There was something wrong with the lock.

  Emily sat on the end of the pier beside Penny Lane’s slip. The fog had completely swallowed Yaquina Bay Bridge. Somewhere in the misty haze, screeching gulls followed the steadily louder hum of a returning boat. She smiled to herself. The gulls, and the early return, meant they’d had a good catch.

  She stared into the fog and let the gentle swells of the glossy water soothe her mind.

  Deciding between Colin and Geoffrey would be impossible. Not because she couldn’t choose, but because she couldn’t bring herself to hurt either of them by choosing the other.

  She wished she’d never gone overboard, never found herself in Newport, never even gone out that day on the charter. Her life would be so much easier if none of this had ever happened.

  As soon as she had the thought, her stomach clenched with regret. She couldn’t bear to wish she’d never met Geoffrey. He was a wonderful man, and her life was richer for having known him. She loved him, pure and simple. Nothing could ever take that away.

  Quick, light footsteps sounded on the pier behind her. For a fleeting moment, she thought it was Gran Millie.

  A svelte silhouette emerged through the mist, slowly taking on color. The figure was familiar, and Emily shivered under a blast of icy fear.

  She stood and faced the raven-haired woman. Thick, oily terror slid into the pit of her stomach.

  “Chelsie.”

  “Remember me, do you?” One hand was pushed under the lapel of her denim jacket, hiding something.

  Emily sidled to the left, every molecule in her body screaming at her to run.

  “Not so fast.” Chelsie thrust her hand forward. Her fist wrapped around the thick black handle of a hunting knife, its silver blade gleaming in the wan light. “You’ve been a hard woman to get a moment alone with, Emily.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sound of a car door slamming brought him from the edge of sleep. When the engine started and it pulled away, he understood. He was alone.

  Emily was gone.

  Had he pressured her last night? He hadn’t said anything about her staying. Maybe that was it—she thought now he didn’t want her to?

  No, how could she possibly think that after last night? She had to know how he felt about her after the way he’d held her and touched her. Made love to her like there was nothing in this universe but the two of them.

  Was it possible he’d been too needy? He wished he’d told her there was no pressure, that she had as much time as she needed to make her decision, even while in his heart he wouldn’t have meant it. He was only human, and that selfish niggling deep inside his gut could be
silenced and ignored, but never truly eradicated. He wanted her for himself, dammit!

  But even though that selfish part existed, he couldn’t let it rule him. He had to explain.

  Geoffrey rose and took a quick, cold shower. The frigid water helped clear his mind and wash away any fanciful feelings. He could be all business, and let his head do the talking while his heart waited in the sidelines.

  Derek was still unconscious in the living room. Void of sympathy for his self-induced illness, Geoffrey happily ran the coffee grinder. He heard his brother grumble awake as he started the coffee maker.

  “What time is it?” Derek croaked from the living room. He appeared at the steps to the kitchen, his hair tousled and his eyes bloodshot.

  Geoffrey nearly laughed out loud at the sight of what he and Emily had done last night. Derek sat down at the kitchen table, smacking away the dryness in his mouth and looking utterly hilarious with that drawn-on curly-cue mustache.

  The sight only made him ache more painfully for Emily. She was an enchantress he couldn’t exist without.

  “You were up late,” he commented with a forced straight face. “What’d you watch?”

  Derek shrugged. “Junk. Is that coffee ready yet?”

  The pot was almost full. “I’ll get you a cup,” Geoffrey said cheerfully. He poured them each a steaming mug and watched Derek pad off to his room at the back of the house.

  After only two mouthfuls, Geoffrey grabbed his keys and started toward the front door. Emily would be at the Mirthful Mermaid. He had to explain that he would give her whatever time she needed.

  Derek’s perturbed voice rang through the house. “What the—awww, man!”

  Geoffrey laughed to himself as he stepped out into the misty morning. It felt good to have Derek more frustrated than him for once. Maybe he should have taken the permanent pen Emily offered, after all.

  * * *

  Emily swallowed past the burning fear caught in her throat. “How did you find me?”

  She was afraid to ask what Chelsie wanted, afraid to even look directly at the knife, afraid to acknowledge it in any way. Ignore it, and maybe she’ll change her mind and put it away.