A Place in Time (Rum Runner Island Book 1)

by JoAnn Ross

  Determined to drive to the lab and settle matters once and for all, she called Danny at the station and told him she was taking some personal time, but to make sure he called if an emergency came up.

  Then she headed back toward the house. Caught up in her tumultuous thoughts, she failed to see the figure emerge from behind a towering pine tree. Neither did she see the tree limb come crashing down on her head.

  * * *

  Sebastian found her like that, crumpled like a dead robin in the snow. As he gathered her into his arms, for the first time in his life, he understood the sheer force of a fury that could drive a man to murder.

  “Kirby.”

  His gloved hands moved over her face, brushing off the snow. “Please, wake up.”

  Her lashes were a tawny fringe against those cold-chapped cheeks. Her lips were softly parted. It was only the slow, steady breath he felt slipping between those lips that kept Sebastian from giving in to the panic he was feeling.

  She wasn’t dead. No thanks to him. Because although the thought was untenable, Sebastian suspected that whoever had attacked Kirby had been after his work.

  “Kirby, please, you have to wake up.”

  Her lids fluttered open. “Sebastian?” Smiling vaguely, she lifted a hand to his face. “You came back.”

  “I told you I would.”

  Last night, damn it. He’d promised to return hours ago, but like a Haldon-headed idiot, he’d allowed himself to get immersed in Nate’s mystery and had let the time slip away from him. His anger at himself for leaving Kirby alone for those long hours was steamrollered by an icy fear that if he’d lingered at the lab for only a few more minutes…

  No. The thought was unpalatable. Shaking off the mental image of a lifeless Kirby, he gathered her into his arms and began carrying her back to the house.

  But although the cut on her head was readily apparent, Kirby proved that her quick and agile mind had not been affected. “How did you get here?” she asked.

  “How do you think? When I returned to the house and found you missing, I walked out here, looking for you.” It was one of the few out-and-out lies he’d told her. In truth, when he’d seen her, in his mind’s eye, lying in the snow, he’d transported himself to her side by telekinesis.

  “But the only tracks in the snow are mine. Except for those,” she said, pointing out another pair that disappeared into the trees. After apparently first coming up behind her. Since they were too small to belong to Sebastian, they could have only been left by her assailant.

  Kirby stared around at the undisturbed snow, then up at Sebastian. He watched the confusion move over her expressive but still-too-pale face.

  “I think,” she said, “that it’s time we had a long talk.”

  As he carried her back to the house, Sebastian attempted to come up with a plausible explanation and knew he’d have to tell her the truth: that he was a half-terran, half-Logosian space traveler who’d accidentally gotten a little off course while crossing subspace due to solar flares and landed on the wrong edge of the continent two hundred years before schedule.

  Would she believe him? The chances were undoubtedly the same as her believing in those little green men who’d been reported.

  “I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee,” he said when they entered the house, stamping snow off his feet. “Or perhaps you should have tea, as you made for me.”

  “You can put me down now,” she said. “And I have a feeling this is probably going to call for something stronger than coffee.”

  “I suspect it isn’t wise to have alcohol with a head injury.”

  “That’s what Mac, the emergency evac guy, said when I found you in the road. But I’m tempted to risk it this one time.”

  There was some logical, rational reason for all this, Kirby knew. All she had to do was figure it out. Perhaps, her desperate mind considered, she was merely dreaming of him. As she had every night since his mysterious arrival on the island. Eager to try anything, Kirby pinched herself. Hard.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked as he set her onto her feet in the small combination entry/mudroom.

  “I was hoping that I was dreaming.”

  “I’m afraid this is not a dream, Kirby.” His deep voice was more solemn than she’d ever heard it. That, along with the regret in his eyes, frightened her.

  “Yeah. I’d already come to that conclusion all by myself.” Kirby went into the adjoining living room. Sebastian followed, running into her when she came to an abrupt halt.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Nate’s computer. Someone’s been using it.” She ran her fingers over the keyboard. “You know, I thought I heard someone in here that first night you were here.”

  A memory flooded into his mind. He remembered knowing that Kirby was in danger and thinking that he must save her, but his rebellious, weakened body had refused to cooperate.

  “You searched the room and found nothing.”

  “That’s right.” She was not as surprised as she might have once been that he knew what she’d been doing while he was supposed to be unconscious. “But finally I decided that it must have been my imagination playing tricks on me.”

  “Because of all the alleged spaceship sightings.”

  “I suppose they had something to do with it,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Surely you don’t think that little green men have been infiltrating themselves into Nate’s top-secret study?”

  “No. Of course I don’t. But Nate’s been real hush-hush about this project. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that someone was after it.”

  “That is a logical conclusion. Especially since the actual reason for Nate having called me to the lab last night was his discovery that someone had attempted to crack the security code at the lab.”

  “And you didn’t feel the need to tell me that?”

  “After the night you’d had, diffusing that problem at the Olson house, I didn’t want to bring you into it,” he said. “Especially since we were more likely to be able to find the potential hackers than you. Not that I mean to insult your intelligence, but—”

  “No, I get it. I can manage email, the police department and website, and Facebook, but that’s about the depth of my computer skills. I also understand that officially involving me in any hacking crimes might risk whatever you and Nate are doing out there becoming public record. Since I am a public servant.”

  “It appears whoever it was, when unable to get by the lab security system, came here in the hopes Nate’s computer might be more accessible.”

  “Good luck with that,” Kirby said. “I doubt Homeland Security’s server is as secure as Nate’s.”

  “Still, whoever was using his computer is likely the same person who hit you on the head.”

  “It would seem so,” Kirby agreed. “And I’d call the police, but unfortunately, I am the police.” She rubbed the back of her head where a headache was beginning to throb and was surprised when she took her hand away and saw the red stain on her fingers.

  “You’re bleeding!”

  “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  “You’ve already proven your bravery to me. There’s no shame in admitting you’re in pain,” Sebastian said. “But we should clean it so it does not become infected.”

  “Good try, but I’m not going to let a little knock on the head and a break-in distract me. We need to talk.”

  “We will talk later. After we tend to your injury. Where is your disinfectant?”

  “In the bathroom… Men,” she huffed. “You’re all so damn bossy.”

  “And women are all so frustratingly stubborn.” Before she could discern his plan, he’d scooped her up in his arms again and was marching toward the fragrant room with the flowered walls.

  “Sebastian,” Kirby protested, “I’m perfectly capable of walking a few feet by myself.”

  “You’re pale. I don’t want you to faint.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I never faint.” She
combed frustrated hands through her hair, surprised when they came away with even more blood.

  He closed the lid, then sat her down on the commode. Was it her imagination, or had the purple flowers on the wall begun to dance?

  “Why, my rookie year I was on patrol with this veteran cop. He had nineteen years under his belt and was six months away from retirement when we got a call about a woman in labor stuck in traffic on the San Diego Freeway.”

  Kirby blinked. It wasn’t her imagination, she decided. The flowers were dancing. And spinning like snowflakes in a Nor’easter. She closed her eyes.

  “My partner told me to let him handle everything. But as soon as he saw the baby’s head coming out, this big, strong, two-hundred-pound male passed out.”

  The floor beneath the commode tilted. “I ended up delivering the baby all by myself. It was a girl. Eight pounds, three ounces. They named her…”

  Kirby slumped forward, and were it not for Sebastian catching her, she would have slid onto the fluffy white rug.

  * * *

  It was summer. The sun was the color of rich, freshly churned butter. It warmed her face as she lay on her back in a field of purple and pink wildflowers. Her eyes were closed, and Kirby was luxuriating in the heady pleasure of a day spent doing nothing.

  She heard the footfalls approaching and knew instinctively who it was.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” The deep voice was wonderfully familiar.

  Because she felt so blissfully languid, it took an effort to open her eyes. And there he was, silhouetted by bright yellow rays of sunshine.

  “And I’ve been waiting for you.” She couldn’t see his face, but she knew that his hair was as black as a raven’s wing. And his eyes were like obsidian, only so much softer. Particularly when they looked at her.

  He knelt beside her and she saw that she was right. Not questioning how or why he’d come, she lifted a hand to his beard-roughened cheek.

  “I’ve been waiting,” she repeated on a soft, breathless voice. “All of my life.”

  “And isn’t that a wonderful coincidence?” he murmured. Taking hold of her hand, he pressed a kiss against her palm and made her flesh burn. “Since I’ve been searching for you all of my life.”

  Destiny had brought them together. And now there was no need for preliminaries. His clever hands undressed her, long, dark fingers maneuvering the buttons running down the front of her sundress with an ease she would have expected from a man who’d played the starring role in her romantic fantasies for years.

  The flowered cotton dress disappeared as if by magic, leaving her clad in a peach camisole trimmed in ivory lace. “You are so lovely.” He ran a slow, tantalizing finger along the lace at the bodice of the camisole, his touch burning her so she wondered why the silk and lace hadn’t gone up in flames.

  For some insane reason, she felt obliged to tell the truth. “I need to lose ten pounds.” Fifteen, but who was counting? She was, dammit. And hey, why don’t you point out all your other flaws while you’re at it?

  “You’re my ideal woman.” His hands skimmed over her. “Just as you are.” He cupped her breast, caressing it with a tender touch that left her aching. When he brushed his thumb over her silk-clad nipple, Kirby felt a delicious tug of expectation between her thighs.

  “Everywhere you have a curve, my sweet Kirby Pendleton”—his mouth dampened first the silken bodice, then the skin beneath it—“I have a hollow.” Stretching out beside her, he brought her close. “See?” His lips nuzzled at her ear, her neck. “We are a perfect fit.”

  It was true. Her body fit against his as if it were one of two perfect parts of a puzzle.

  “A perfect fit,” she agreed, lifting her arms around his neck. Her body seemed gloriously light. Free. A sweet pleasure flowed through her like summer sunshine.

  A soft breeze shimmied across the meadow, causing the blossoms to bob their purple heads. Hummingbirds, slender throats gleaming like emeralds, flittered here and there, gathering up fragrant nectar with their long beaks.

  Just as the birds drank from the flowers, his lips were drinking from hers as if he would never get enough of her taste.

  The sun seemed trapped in her skin, warming her all the way to the bone. The air swirled with the sweet scents of flowers and the salt tang of the sea. And the unmistakable scent of desire.

  His arms tightened around her, fitting her to his body so tightly that even that zephyr of a sea breeze couldn’t come between them. Their clothes were gone, as if seared away by the rising heat from their bodies, and as her hands explored the rippling muscles of his back, Kirby was rewarded with a low, masculine moan.

  She heard her name vibrating against her breast, tasted it when he returned his mouth to hers. His chest was covered with an arrowing of crisp dark hair that rubbed against her taut, ultrasensitive nipples and made them ache.

  Kirby had never felt so much a prisoner of her emotions. Never had she felt so free. Laughing softly, she pulled away from his embrace. Kneeling beside him in the bed of flowers, she moved her hands over his sun-dappled body, skimming, caressing, kneading, arousing.

  She plucked a purple blossom and trailed it over his shoulders, down his chest, over his stomach. She drew it down first one hair-roughened thigh and then the other, fascinated by the way his muscles clenched beneath his dark flesh.

  So much man, she considered headily. And he was hers. All hers.

  They could have been the only two people in the universe. The first man and woman. Or the last.

  Like Eve, she tempted.

  Like Adam, he succumbed.

  In that bright light of a summer day, dark secrets as old as time were revealed. There was no need to hurry. Anticipation only added to the pleasure.

  And time, for this suspended moment, stood gloriously still.

  Through the golden mists, she heard him say her name. Kirby. All his feelings for her, all the love, vibrated in that single word. It sounded like a poem. Or a prayer. It sounded glorious.

  “Kirby.” Sebastian was running a cool cloth over her forehead, down her cheeks, across her closed lids. “Please wake up. You’re frightening me.”

  No. Please. The dream was fading, back into the mists of her mind. Poised on the edge of fulfillment, Kirby struggled against the rising consciousness.

  “Kirby.” There was a low, inarticulate oath. “I’m going to call Nate.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a doctor.”

  “No.” Her fantasy disintegrated like fog over the tops of the trees, leaving her frustrated and unsatisfied. “I’m all right.”

  She reluctantly opened her eyes and found herself looking into Sebastian’s dark gaze. She was no longer in the bathroom. Instead, she was lying on top of her grandmother Pendleton’s poinsettia-pattern Christmas quilt. He was seated on the edge of the bed, concern etching lines around his eyes and carving furrows in his handsome face.

  “I was dreaming about you.”

  Sebastian ran the back of his hand down her still-pale cheek. “I hope that explains the smile.”

  “It was a very good dream,” she admitted. “It was summer and we were lying—”

  “In a field of wildflowers. And you told me that you’ve been waiting for me all your life. And I told you that I’d been looking for you all my life.”

  “Yes.”

  His words should have surprised her. Only days ago, she wouldn’t have believed it possible for two people to be so in tune with each other. But that was before she’d met Sebastian.

  “You were reading my mind, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. And I owe you an apology for that, but I find that I can’t sincerely express regret. Since that was the moment when I realized it was true.”

  His gaze moved lovingly over her face, lingering on her lips. “I have been searching for you all my life. You’ve been the driving force behind all my years of work. It wasn’t the solar flares that brought me here. It was destiny. And you.”


  He combed his fingers through her hair, avoiding her head wound as he sifted strands between his fingers. “Because you are my destiny, Kirby Pendleton.”

  And he was hers. It sounded so perfect. So wonderfully, magically perfect. But experience had taught Kirby that magic, while appealing, was merely cleverly staged illusion.

  “If that’s true, why do you look as if there’s something terribly wrong? Is it that other woman? The one you were engaged to?”

  “No. Yes.” Frustrated by the circumstances, Sebastian stood up and began to pace. “Zorana’s part of it,” he admitted. “But not the way you think. It’s just that, in a very real way, she represents where I’ve come from. Who I am.”

  “I think it’s time you tell me the whole story,” Kirby suggested with a great deal more calm than she was feeling.

  “You’re right. I owe you the truth. All of it.” Being an honorable man didn’t stop him from looking less than eager to get into the nitty gritty of his story. “But we still have to wash that cut,” he said. “Also, I should telephone Nate and warn him that he’s in possible danger. And then, I’ll tell you the truth about who I am. And what brought me here.”

  He looked as if he’d rather be used as lobster bait. Not encouraging. “Is it that bad?” she asked.

  “I suppose that depends on your point of view.”

  He returned to the bathroom long enough to retrieve a damp cloth, a packet of sterile gauze, tape, and alcohol wipes.

  “You’re right about it only being a flesh wound,” he agreed as he used the rag to wash around the cut. “The blood has already begun to congeal, and I don’t see any splinters from the tree limb in the cut.”

  “I told you. I’m a professional. I’ve seen a lot worse injuries than this,” she said distractedly, worried yet again about what secrets Sebastian was hiding.

  “I’m trying not to think what you might have experienced as a detective third class,” he muttered as he swiped an alcohol wipe over the area he’d washed. “Not because I don’t believe you capable, but calling me sexist until the end of time will not stop me from being sanguine about the dangers you must have faced. Nor being concerned that someone tried to kill you.”