WidowsWalk

by Genevieve Ash

  Lindy watched his gaze drop and linger as her nipples hardened, poking through the wet cotton of her top. Tom’s hand was on her hip, fingers curling around her waist and moving slowly upward. As his fingertips reached the underside of her breast, Lindy panicked and stood up straight.

  “I wasn’t offering either, Tom,” she said resolutely.

  “Could have fooled me, Lindy.” Tom’s gaze never left hers.

  “Thanks again but I really have a lot to do around here.” Her words tumbled out quickly in an effort to hide her embarrassment.

  Lindy tried to step aside but Tom draped his arm on the other side of her, placing his hands on the edge of the sink. Lindy knew she could break free but she didn’t want to. What she wanted was for him to kiss her. The heat was rising from her core to her neck and she could feel the dampness at the apex of her thighs, clinging to her panties and her soft, moist folds.

  Tom smiled as though he knew her secret. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Lindy wondered if he could smell her desire for him.

  “If you are sure there is nothing I can do for you, then?”

  Lindy hesitated. She didn’t know why she so desperately wanted this stranger to throw her down on the floor and take her like a rutting animal but she did. Her vivid imagination was running amok again. The images of entwined limbs, thrusting hips and hungry mouths filled her mind.

  “Lindy?”

  “What?” she answered hotly. “Yes, oh sorry, Tom, I was thinking…”

  Tom moved his head closer still. “What were you thinking?” His voice was soft, his lips almost brushing her cheek.

  His erection pressing into her thigh, and the warmth of his breath on her ear caused her to shiver. She pressed her breasts against him and the sensation of his hard chest meeting her tight nipples caused her to whimper.

  “I was thinking—oh,” she said as his tongue barely traced the outline of her ear.

  “Perhaps you were thinking that you would like me to kiss you.” His lips found her cheek.

  “Truth be told, I was thinking that—” Lindy paused, her brain churning with mixed emotions. “We are strangers and this cannot lead to anything good.”

  “Why does it have to lead to anything?” His lips were at the corner of hers. “Why can’t we just kiss?”

  Lindy tried to weigh her options but Tom captured her pursed lips and kissed her tenderly. He increased the pressure. I am actually feeling weak in the knees. She sagged against him, moaning softly. As his tongue pushed at the seam of her lips she pulled away abruptly. She knew once she let him in there was no turning back.

  “Tom, thanks. I am fine here. I don’t need anything else. I mean—right now.”

  “Okay, Lindy. If you change your mind you know how to find me.”

  Tom’s smile reminded Lindy of a Cheshire cat and she wondered why he had to be so full of himself. This was exactly why she did not need any help from a man—especially an arrogant, pompous ass like Tom. Lindy threw herself into the task at hand. If she wanted to enjoy her vacation by the sea, she needed to make the place livable.

  * * * * *

  After a couple of days she was at least able to bathe and sleep in a clean bed. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating well and it was taking its toll. “What is wrong with me?” she asked her pseudo-serious reflection in the hall mirror. She didn’t know why she expected a different response. A girl can hope, can’t she?

  She slid her finger across her lower lip and smiled. She couldn’t seem to get Tom’s kiss off her mind. It had only been a few days but he had not been around since. Why was she even allowing thoughts of him to disturb her peace? Why?

  Because it made her feel things she thought had long since died. Because this stranger seemed to crawl right under her skin and leave her feeling empty inside at the same time. She knew it was ridiculous but all she wanted was for him to kiss her again.

  Okay, coming to the romantic Cornwall of her dreams was clouding her judgment. This was not a Gothic romance novel. It was her life.

  Let’s look at this objectively. Twenty-six years old, no family, single—with no interest in the roller coaster of emotions that love seems to bring—and I’m a romance writer living in a craggy house by the sea.

  Lindy shook her head. She couldn’t believe the cliché her life had become.

  So now the alpha hero drops in and wants to have passionate sex with me. What would my heroine do? Sure there’s plenty of conflict, she’d love to hate his smug, pompous nature but is that enough? So what? He is hot and a little sex never hurt anyone. Besides, he must be gone to sea for weeks at a time and by the time he returns you might be back at home already. Home?

  Lindy was beginning to wonder what that word meant. She had sold her condo and put her belongings in storage before she left. She had her friends but no family to consider. This old place wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could stay for a while. It might be a good muse, if nothing else.

  “Lindy! Hello, anyone home in there?” Tom called as he opened the screen door.

  Startled from her self-talk, she smoothed her hair into the sloppy ponytail at her neck and tugged her shirt down, hoping it would make her look a bit less slovenly. Well I sure have made a good impression so far!

  “Sorry Tom, a bit distracted I guess.” Lindy tried to recover and mask her emotions.

  “I knocked a couple of times, just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said as he stepped into the disaster of the kitchen. If the front of the house faces the sea, why does everyone have to walk into the kitchen? Lindy wondered fleetingly.

  Tom looked at her keenly, trying to guess what had been distracting her. He was beginning to wonder just what made this gal tick. She was fiercely independent, a little too much so for his taste. She seemed wound tighter than a traveling alarm clock. Better to not get involved. I don’t need any more complicated women—especially one that lives so close. Soon I’ll be back out to sea—alone and free.

  “Lindy, I just stopped by to let you know I’ll be taking a charter group out tomorrow. Sailing around to Mallorca and then Barcelona. I will be gone a little over a month.”

  “Oh, sounds lovely.” Tom thought Lindy looked a little wistful as she gazed out the window at the sparkling sea. “Thanks but I hardly need your itinerary.”

  “Yes, right. But since you’re new in town and don’t know anyone…” He paused. “Well just in case you need anything, here is my card,” he stammered, pressing it into her palm.

  Tom hadn’t experienced much rejection from women in the past and Lindy’s casual slam had taken him off his game. Just thought I would lay a little groundwork for my return but his one might not be as easy as the others. “Sometimes the cell works near land but I can usually pick up messages in port. Email is always good.” He added a quick wink and Lindy smiled. Tom watched as that smile went from puzzled to embarrassed in a few seconds.

  “Whatever will I do without you?” she said, falling into a fake swoon against the railing.

  Tom watched her back arch and her breasts rise toward the sky. Her chest was heaving and her legs parted slightly to hold her balance. Tom could feel his cock stirring and reached a hand beneath her back. Lifting her into his arms, he heard a small whimper as their bodies connected.

  Her lips parted, pushing out shallow puffs of air and Tom took it as an invitation, capturing them between his own. He kissed her softly at first, waiting for her surrender. When her arms encircled his neck, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Kissing her deeply, he drew the breath from her lungs until she broke away, gasping for air.

  “See you, Miss Belinda Ann Reddington of America.”

  “See you, Captain.” And with that, he was gone again.

  Chapter Three

  Lindy sat in an old wicker rocker for some time after Tom left. The sound of laughter floated from the beach and she closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. People on the beach were enjoying the warmth of the sunny day. The gulls swooped and dov
e, trying to share the sunbathers’ picnic lunches, and the maritime smell of fish and seawater clung to the onshore breeze and everything in its path.

  Lindy giggled like a child then shook her head. She was ridiculously happy and that worried her. She had just managed to rein in her emotions from their last encounter. It was just a kiss, she thought as she sipped her iced tea. Daydreaming was not going to help her meet her deadline or get this house in order. Shaking off her lethargy, she headed in and grabbed her laptop. She had a book due in less than a month and was only halfway done. Her editor was patient but Lindy liked to be on time. Taking it onto the porch had seemed like a good idea but the sparkling crystal-like drops of water glinting off the sea were distracting her, so she snapped the lid shut on her laptop and went inside to make supper.

  * * * * *

  The day hung wearily on Lindy’s shoulders and as she soaked in a hot bath later that night she let the heat and her weariness carry her to a peaceful place. She wondered if Tom had left yet, if there might still be a chance he would stop by and wrap his arms around her. She floated on the daydream until she worried she would drift off then hoisted her relaxed body from the tub and toweled off.

  Heading to her bedroom for her robe, she saw Tom’s shirt hanging over a chair. She gathered the soft cotton in her hands. She couldn’t resist burying her nose in the worn fabric. It smelled of the sea and of a man and something else Lindy couldn’t quite put her finger on. It smelled like Tom.

  Remembering his kiss, Lindy shuddered and a tingle rose from somewhere deep inside. She stroked her hands over the t-shirt, feeling her nipples harden against the cotton.

  The shirt came to her knees and she gathered it together and pressed it against her tender sex, hoping to stop the ache and to mop up the trickle of moisture. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again. She stared out the window into the early darkness hoping—wishing—to see him walking up the beach.

  Lindy closed her eyes and imagined Tom’s face. She could smell him all around her. Feel the heat of his skin pressed close to hers, his arms around her waist. She let the fantasy take her and she leaned into the protection of his embrace.

  Her nipples were hard, the soft cotton pulled tightly against them, rubbing until they ached with urgent need. In her imagination she could feel his hands sliding up— cupping her breasts, squeezing, his palms warm against the peaking nubs. She groaned and moved her hips, searching for the imaginary hardness of his erection. She needed to feel his desire for her, needed to feel like a woman, needed release.

  Lindy stretched out on the bed, the mattress enveloping her in a soft cloud of comfort. Her hands became his hands and were roaming over her body. Caressing, exploring, arousing her until her nerve endings were burning with the intensity of sensation. Fingers on her clit circling slowly at first, teasing until the pain was too much to bear and the pressure increased inside her. Pushing harder, moving faster and then his fingers were inside her. Thrusting in and out, pushing up against her G-spot as the tension built.

  She was ready but tried to hold it back. She wanted more, wanted it to be explosive. In her fantasy his palm pressed into her clit, moving against her each time his fingers thrust into her. Lindy groaned, her breath coming in rapid pants now and she undulated her hips, pushing up into the powerful grip he had on her sex.

  His other hand squeezing her breast, he pinched her nipple between his thumb and finger and she cried out, “Oh Tom, please!” Faster he pumped inside her, the hard heel of his hand rough as it slid over the curly hairs on her mound before dragging against her sensitive clit. She was so close, the need inside pushing for release.

  The muscles in her abdomen clamped down tightly and released. She pushed hard and bore down as the warm, wet release coated her thighs. Sighing, she snuggled closer, pulling the light quilt over her shoulders and drifting off to sleep.

  * * * * *

  The early-morning sun shone brightly and Lindy woke with a smile already curving her lips. Still half-asleep she reached for Tom, her hand falling into the empty spot next to her. She hesitantly opened her eyes, dreading the truth she already knew—he hadn’t really been there. Her fantasy had been so vivid. She’d felt and smelled and tasted each sensation. Maybe her great-aunt’s note was truer then she thought—there was magic in this house. It was either that or Lindy had suddenly turned into a sex-starved woman.

  * * * * *

  A few days of heavy cleaning and Lindy felt a bit more settled. The house was beginning to shape up and it gave her a sense of accomplishment. She had gone into town for some groceries and gotten the name of some contractors at the market while she was there. They would be coming out to meet with her in a few days and Lindy was excited to be making progress. One room at a time, she worked steadily to make the place livable.

  Her afternoons were spent writing on the broad clapboard porch while the ocean breeze blew, cooling her tortured soul. She would finish this damn book about her breakup with Stephen and then she could move on. Of course it was a romance so she had to find the happily-ever-after in there somewhere. Lindy tried not to write real life but it was impossible to keep her emotions from flowing onto the page.

  Exhausted and emotionally drained, she typed her two favorite words—the end. Rubbing her hand over her face, she felt the tears pushing at her but they still would not come.

  The late-afternoon sun was orange in the sky, falling slowly toward the leaden sea. Lindy grabbed a sweater and headed down the beach. She walked and walked and walked, oblivious to the world around her. It was time to let it go.

  So life didn’t always turn out as planned. She was young and had plenty of time. Better she had found out before they had married—if they were ever really going to be married at all. Lindy never even got to try that ring on. When she had run into him and Rachel at the museum, she noticed Rachel was wearing it on her left hand.

  Heading back home, Lindy’s thoughts turned to Tom. Maybe a summer romance was just what she needed. And since he left for weeks at a time it would be perfect—a little fun and then goodbye.

  A flash of bright blue caught her eye and Lindy turned to see a gorgeous siren masthead. Tom’s house, she thought. Long golden hair was carved in waves covering the figure’s back, and the white skin of her hips peeked through just above the blue drape of wooden fabric covering most of her bottom. Her naked breasts were full and round with the palest of pink nipples. They were small and delicate like little pearls. Lindy could feel her own nipples tighten as she looked at them. The masthead was magnificent and Tom’s place looked cozy and inviting.

  Lindy felt the warmth between her legs and wondered why she had been thinking about sex so much lately. Now all she could think of was seducing Tom when he returned.

  “She’s really something isn’t she?”

  Lindy pulled herself from the fantasy of tangled sheets and suntanned limbs to see a beautiful blonde woman coming round the side of Tom’s house with a watering can. Damn, it figures, Lindy thought, irritated.

  “Yes, she’s quite lovely. Looks remarkably like you, actually.”

  “That’s very kind of you—but no, it is an antique. Something of a local legend really. A sea captain’s unrequited love.”

  “Sounds very romantic,” Lindy said.

  “I told Tom it’s too valuable to leave it outside but he doesn’t like to hide things of beauty.”

  Oh no, except girlfriends. I wonder how she’d feel about him kissing strange American women.

  “I suppose it attracts a lot of attention.” Lindy tried to soften her clipped tone.

  “My name is Sarah, by the way.”

  “Belinda—Lindy. Nice to meet you. A lovely place you have.” Lindy hoped it didn’t sound as though she was fishing.

  “Well, thanks. It’s not mine, just watering Tom’s plants. Are you the American fixing up the old Ballard place, then?”

  “That would be me. Did Tom mention what a mess I’m in?”

  “Tom? No, I was down
at the post office the other day and someone mentioned it.”

  “Oh yes, small town, news travels fast.” Lindy kicked at the sand with her toe, trying to hide her disappointment. “I should be headed back.”

  “Well it was nice to meet you, Lindy.”

  “You too,” Lindy managed with as much kindness as she could. Waving, she headed back down the beach. So what did she expect? A good-looking guy like Tom probably had plenty of women. Enough! She wasn’t going to even think about it anymore.

  * * * * *

  Lindy had been saving the attic for last. She hadn’t wanted to go up there by herself but since she was alone she would have to. The dust was settling through the cracks in the floorboards, raining down on the cleaning she had managed in the bedrooms.

  Dragging a mop and bucket along, she headed upstairs. Reaching the door to the attic, she tugged on the knob to no avail. The humidity must have been making it stick. Pushing her hip soundly against it to loosen it, she pushed hard. A key fell from the ledge above the door, clanking on the floor at her feet.

  Duh, Lindy. A key would help. She unlocked the door and stood on her tiptoes to place the key back on the ledge.

  A couple of yanks and the dampness released its grip and the door opened. The smell of years of neglect hit Lindy head-on. She wondered how long the room had been sealed up and what she might find.

  Always curious, she tried to shake off her fears and look on it as an adventure. I mean really, what do you think is up here? As she trudged up the creaking wooden stairs, suddenly she wished she hadn’t read so many ghost stories in her youth.

  The blast of hot air hit her head-on at the top of the stairs and she recoiled. Setting down her cleaning supplies, she wove her way through the piles of forgotten treasures to open a window at either end of the long room.

  The ocean breeze had its work cut out for itself in this oppressive place. The attic was magnificent, just as she would have written it in a story. Boxes and boxes of books and magazines, a dress form covered in a fur coat with the fox heads still attached to the collar. Bits and pieces of furniture and other assorted oddities that Lindy hadn’t quite identified yet. And there was of course the obligatory steamer trunk. Lindy knew she should wait for another day to open it but she was too much of a romantic to wait.