Stealing Gold (The Logan Series Book 4)

by Sally Clements

  The song was good. She’d written well when on tour, but since the matter with Lester she had been blocked—secretly fearing her muse had left forever.

  But now that buzz she’d adored her whole life seemed to be back.

  “Hey.” Adam walked outside, bare chested with a pair of jeans riding low on his hips. Bare feet and rumpled hair looked good on him. “Have you been awake long?”

  She glanced at her watch. “A couple of hours.” She walked to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I wrote a song.”

  “Yeah?” His hand stroked the back of her hair.

  “It’s a great day so far.” She gazed at him with a smile. “There’s coffee if you want some.”

  His quick kiss left her wanting more. “I’ll take some upstairs with me.” He stepped away.

  There was something off. She wandered after him into the kitchen, unable to put her finger on what exactly bothered her. He filled a mug with coffee, added milk and three spoonsfuls of sugar, and rubbed a hand through his hair.

  “I’ll shower, change, and see you in a couple of minutes.”

  He made no move to touch her, and his smile seemed a little forced.

  Shit. He regrets last night. Last night had been so good for her she hadn’t even considered the possibility he might not feel the same.

  But there was no mistaking the shift in the atmosphere. It was definite morning after blues. Rather than just stand there worrying the problem in her mind she scooped wet clothes from the machine, slipped on her sandals, and went to hang them on the line outside.

  Chapter Nine

  The sight of Stacy sitting outside, as comfortable and relaxed as though it was her home, not his, had thrown Adam into turmoil. On one hand, he was just as glad to see her, as she obviously was to see him. On the other, he wondered if he was the sort of guy who could just start again, forgiving everything that had gone before.

  Hell no.

  He left the shower, dried off, and dressed quickly. He never should have made love to her last night. There was no calling it just sex, he’d connected in the way he’d only ever connected with one person before. Her. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be back on the obsession treadmill, thinking they could have more than a month sharing the same bed, thinking they could be part of each other’s lives again.

  He shoved his wallet into the front pocket of his jeans. She’d been vulnerable last night. Had needed the consolation of a friend. Instead, he’d taken consolation to a whole other level, and dived right back into dangerous waters.

  They needed some distance.

  Stacy, it seemed, had other ideas.

  “I want to thank you for last night,” she said when he walked back into the kitchen. “For listening while I spilled all that stuff about my past.” She glanced over. “I’ve had that locked inside me for so many years, I feel so different today, now you know.”

  “Different how?”

  “More relaxed. Less tense, I guess.”

  “That’s probably as a result of the sex.” He grinned. “I’m relaxed too.”

  “You are not.” She crossed her arms. “You’re doing a pretty good impression of being relaxed, but you can’t fool me. Something is different with you this morning.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I could tiptoe around and see how this whole thing pans out, but Jeez, I’m so sick of being careful and not taking charge. The way I see it, you could be feeling weird because of a couple of different things.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “You could be freaked out that my parents are alive, and I’ve been lying to you this whole time—I wouldn’t blame you if you were—and maybe you can’t get past that, but...”

  “I understand why you did it.”

  She nodded. “Okay, well the other thing you could be feeling tense about is us making love.” She waited. Silence stretched and the air hummed with anticipation so heavy his skin itched.

  He’d waited too long to deny it or to laugh it off.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “You were vulnerable. Maybe us having sex wasn’t the best idea, under the circumstances.”

  “Didn’t you want to?” There was hurt in her voice. Probably because he’d downgraded the experience from making love to having sex. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want her building this up to something it wasn’t.

  “You and I always had great chemistry. I wanted you last night so badly I ached. But I don’t want to be back loving you again. I don’t want to be back hating you either.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Things are going too fast. Just like last time.”

  “So we should stay away from each other.” She moved her hand away. “That’s what you’re saying.”

  “No. We just need to keep some distance. Not get all carried away in crazy.”

  “Carried away in crazy? I feel another song coming on.” She sipped her coffee. “The way I see it is this. I’m here for a month, sex makes me feel good, and I want to feel good right now. When this job is over, I have to go back and sort out my life, but right now I’m hiding from reality and chasing pleasure. If you want to keep some distance, that’s fine.” She tapped her bottom lip with her fingertips. “Sean said something about having a party. Did he say anything to you about that?”

  The rapid change of subject made Adam’s head hurt. “Me throwing a party?” The cottage was too small, he couldn’t cook; would he have to invite everyone working on the project?

  “No, silly.” She cast him an indulgent smile. “Sean.”

  “Sean’s married.”

  She ignored his statement entirely. “He said it would be good to introduce me to his friends. It doesn’t seem right that you should have to entertain me every night. If I knew more people I’d be a lot more self-sufficient.”

  This is getting out of hand. “I like spending time with you. You don’t need to be self-sufficient.” He ground his back teeth together. “And anyway, I never said I didn’t want to have fun too—I just said we should...”

  “Take it slow and not make the mistake of thinking this is any more than a casual fling, I know.”

  He itched with the need to escape this conversation—since holding her in his arms all he wanted was to return to bed with her for an action packed rerun of the previous night, but that was completely at odds with his stated objective of cooling things down.

  “Why don’t you dress, and then I’ll take you out for a drive.”

  They packed sandwiches, and drove the narrow roads to Roundstone, where Adam parked. It was a beautiful day, warm with a clear blue sky.

  “There won’t be much happening today. Most places are closed.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Her eyes sparkled.

  They strode down to the harbor, and he pointed out a couple of small currachs bouncing on the waves, tied among the fishing boats. “My grandparents used to own one. My brothers and I were always fighting about who would get to go out on it.” He grinned at the memory. “On weekdays the fishermen bring their catch in here and you can buy lobster straight from the boats.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t think I’d have the heart to boil them alive.”

  He loved eating them, but couldn’t bear preparing them either. “When I was a kid I stole one she’d bought here, and tossed it back in. Gran wasn’t very happy about that. I was only six.”

  She smiled. “You must have been cute when you were young. So, what else is there to do in this village?”

  “We could go and see if the bodhran makers is open.”

  She raised her shoulders in a what-the-hell shrug.

  “It’s a musical instrument. A round, hand held drum. You could buy one to take back to Nashville.” The thought of her leaving made him ache inside. “Or we could leave that for another day and go for a walk into the mountains.”

  She breathed in deep. “It’s such a beautiful day, let’s walk.”

  They headed out on the Ballyconneely Road. He pointed out the mountains, the flowe
rs blooming in the bog, the stone walls that bounded every small field.

  She found everything fascinating. All the things he’d taken for granted his entire life came alive with her interested questions.

  They stopped near a dark lake, and ate their sandwiches. A gust of wind caught the long strands of her hair, whipping them around her face as they sat on the warm stone wall.

  “We can continue on and take another road that will bring us back to Roundstone again, but it’s another hour’s walk. Or we can turn back.”

  “Let’s keep going.” She stood up and brushed crumbs from her lap. “It’s been so long since I’ve spent time in the fresh air.”

  As they walked, she told him about the places she’d visited on tour.

  He explained how he’d become jaded with non-stop work. How the buzz he used to feel working in his company had faded, and how he’d come to the decision to sell out.

  “I came back for my grandmother’s funeral.” He stared ahead, noticing they were almost back in Roundstone again. “Sean and I talked afterward, and I came down to see the studios. It was perfect timing—he needed investment, and I needed a new start.”

  She glanced his direction at that, but remained silent.

  They returned home. That evening they shared a simple steak and salad dinner on the deck. When the dishes were done, Stacy stretched her arms above her head, and yawned. “You know, I’ve been up since five. I think I’ll take a bath and have an early night.”

  Before he had a chance to respond, she darted away, closing her bedroom door behind her.

  *****

  The following day at Christine’s urging, Stacy forgot about feeling self-conscious, and had fun with the dialogue, allowing herself to ‘be the squirrel’. The script was infused with humor, and before long she was picturing Bibi as she delivered each line. They read through the script four times. By the end of the morning Christine said she was delighted with the progress Stacy had made.

  When Christine called a break, Stacy was amazed to realize it was lunchtime. A girl from the local deli had arrived first thing to take orders for sandwiches, and had delivered them and a selection of drinks to the small kitchenette.

  “It’s such a beautiful day, let’s eat outside.”

  Stacy followed Christine into the garden. Other members of staff had decided to do the same, some sitting on the grass, and some at picnic tables spread around the green space. There was no sign of Adam, but Sean wandered over within minutes.

  “How’s it going today, Stacy?”

  “Great.” With a smile, she tilted her face to the sunshine.

  “More than great,” Christine added. “We should be ready to lay down some real takes this afternoon.”

  “Seriously?” She’d thought they were days off actually recording her voice over for real. Maybe this would mean she wouldn’t need to spend the next month working,and could go home earlier than planned. The thought of cutting her stay short filled her with dismay, so she brushed that thought away.

  “I’m having a barbeque on Saturday night—I hope you can both make it?” Sean took a bite of his sandwich and chewed. “I wanted to have it sooner, but my wife Amanda is up to her eyes with work this week.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “I’m on for it.”

  Stacy and Christine answered at the same time.

  “What does your wife do?” Stacy asked.

  “She’s an editor for a magazine in Galway. A lot of the time she manages to work online, but they’re getting the next issue ready to go out, so she’s commuting this week.” He grimaced. “It takes over an hour to drive home, so she’ll be fit for nothing until the weekend.”

  They chatted for a while, then Christine consulted her watch. “Time to get back to work. Ready, Stacy?”

  By the time Adam came to find her at four o’clock, they’d recorded Bibi’s first scene. Stacy asked Christine to play it back to Adam. She watched him as he listened, and her heart swelled with pride when he laughed on hearing the punchline.

  “We’re finished for the day,” Christine said.

  “Me too.” Adam took Stacy’s light cotton jacket from the back of the chair and handed it to her. “Let’s go.”

  At the car, he smiled. “Let’s go swimming.”

  Stacy shook her head. “I don’t swim.”

  “You can paddle in the shallows then. This is way too good a day to spend indoors.”

  “You mean in the sea?” She chewed her bottom lip, considering if she could tell him, then took a deep breath, and did. “I…uh…I’ve never been in the sea.”

  “You mean the Atlantic?”

  “I mean any sea. I just never got around to it.”

  “You’ve walked along the beach though, right?”

  She shook her head.

  Adam’s eyes widened. “Do you have a swimsuit?”

  She shook her head again.

  “We’ll buy one in Clifden, then head to Dog’s Bay. You’ll love it.”

  Less than an hour later, they were back at the cottage. Stacy dressed in the conservative black swimsuit she’d bought, despite Adam’s suggestion of a whole range of barely there bikinis, pulled a simple cotton dress on top, and grabbed a towel.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Can you get that?” Adam called from the bedroom.

  She opened the door to find a beefy stranger on the doorstep. Her gaze immediately honed in on something gripped in his large hand. A familiar pair of hot pink panties.

  “I have these.” He held them out.

  Fear clutched her insides and squeezed. She’d never had a stalker, but she’d hung those panties on the line in the backyard earlier, he must have stolen them.

  “Step back.” There was a container of walking sticks and umbrellas just inside the front door. As the stranger’s eyes widened and he did as she asked, she grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a knobbly stick, and brandished it in the air. “Adam!” She called behind her as loudly as she could.

  “Ah, Jaysus. No, you’ve the wrong idea.” His face turned red, and he dabbed his sweaty forehead with her panties, then gasped in horror when he realized what he’d done.

  Adam came up behind her. “What’s going on here?” His hand curled around Stacy’s shoulder moving her back out the way.

  The stranger focused all his attention on Adam. “There’s been a misunderstanding.” He spoke fast, stammering with nerves. “Ask the lady to lower the shillelagh.”

  Adam stared back, and didn’t answer.

  “I’m Paddy Twohig, from the farm.” He waved a hand to the right. “Our family were friends with your grandmother. You’re Adam Logan, aren’t ya?”

  Adam nodded. “Do you want to explain why you’re holding my wife’s knickers, Paddy?”

  Paddy swallowed. “It was Jack.” He proffered the panties Adam’s direction, waggling them in the air as if he was desperate to get rid of them. “The donkey. He must have leaned over the back fence and grabbed them. He came home with them in his mouth. He was always doing that with your grandmother’s things.”

  Stacy lowered the walking stickShe fought back the urge to giggle,and snatched her underwear from Paddy’s hand.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, er, Mrs Logan. He can’t resist pink. I’ll be going then.” Before either of them had a chance to respond, he hiked up his dirty jeans, turned on his heels, and scurried away along the path.

  *****

  Dogs Bay was everything a beach should be. A curving crescent of white sand, with turquoise sea beyond, and even a heather-purple lump of mountain in the distance.

  “Shoes off.” Adam extended his arm so she could grab it while unsteadily slipping off her sandals. The sand was warm and gritty. She curled her toes in, leaving soft indentations. “Dry sand feels different to wet sand.” Adam scooped up a handful to show her. “This sand is formed from shell and other marine detritus. There’s a miniature world in every handful.”

  She peered at it, noting the differing
shapes and textures.

  “Try walking.”

  Up at the far reaches, away from the water, the sand was piled into dunes with scrubby plants growing on top. Stacy took a step, then two, her feet forming deep gouges as the ground flowed and moved under her. “So this is what shifting sands means.” She slipped, ran a couple of steps, then stopped on the flat.

  “I can’t remember the first time I came to the beach. We spent weeks staying with my grandparents every summer. A couple of days after we broke up from school, Ma would pack us into the car and we’d be off. Dad stayed home.” He took her hand as they trekked across the sand to a spot sheltered by an outcropping of rock. “Here’s good.” He laid a towel onto the sand, then removed his T-shirt and toed off his shoes.

  Stacy unfastened the wraparound dress, and placed it carefully on the towel, then placed her sandals below it. There were only a handful of other people on the beach, but she felt exposed and awkward.

  “I never went on vacation when I was a kid. I had no other relatives than my parents, and neither of them was inclined to go anywhere. When Lester became my manager, I worked all the time. I had one burst of rebellion when I sneaked out and went to the convention and checked into a hotel under a fake name without anyone knowing my whereabouts.” She grinned. “And you know what happened then.”

  “You married me.”

  They were at the boundary of beach and sea, and Adam stepped in, the clear water pooling around his ankles.

  She took a tentative step, and squealed. “God, that’s cold!”

  Adam took her hand. “You’ll get used to it. Come on.” He walked into the water, pulling her with him, laughing and shrieking as the waves foamed around her calves, her thighs, her waist.

  This is fun. She splashed Adam, pulled away from him, and ran through the water. Playing like a kid would. Like a kid should. Like she never had. When she was young, she’d found it difficult to make friends. Parents at the school were cautious about inviting her to come and play at their houses, and there was no point in inviting anyone back to hers. The prospect of bringing someone home to her mother passed out on the couch had been a deterrent since she was old enough to realize not everyone had a home life like hers.