Born Esmeralda Mercedes Martinez, Mercy had inherited her physical characteristics from her Cuban-American parents. Nearly her opposite, Lilli was tall, lean, ivory-complexioned with gray eyes and light ash blonde hair that she usually wore in a conservative twist. Where Mercy was outgoing and friendly, Lilli was aloof and smiled only when the situation required it. When it came to their work ethic however, they were equally matched.
They had one other thing in common—on Valentine's Day six months ago, they had both turned forty. Because their positions required a close relationship and their being the same age, she had suggested Mercy call her Lilli rather than Ms. Davenport, as the rest of the staff was required to do. But Mercy refused, saying use of her first name was unprofessional, which was how she ended up calling her "Boss" more often than not.
What seemed strange about their relationship, however, was even more personal than their birthdays. Having lost her mother when she was only eight, Lilli couldn't be absolutely certain, but she often had the feeling Mercy was watching over her in a motherly fashion. She wasn't really worried about it, but she was concerned that Mercy might have become too attached to her.
Considering all the secrets Lilli knew about Crystal Island, it was impossible for her not to be concerned about anything she couldn't quite put her finger on.
Chapter 3
The sight of his Maggie instantly resurrected the gawky, scared, totally miserable fifteen-year-old and the memory of the teen angel who had swooped down from heaven and changed his life forever.
As he waited for her response, his heart pounded in his chest. Could she have forgotten him? He could barely breathe. She appeared to be confused so he took a step toward her and hesitantly held out his hands.
A moment later she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his neck. He whirled her around twice before setting her on her feet, but rather than let her go completely, he clasped both her hands. "I gather you remember me?"
"Good grief, Noah, I thought you might not remember me. I mean, that would make sense. I'm nobody. But you... well, everyone knows your name. Who would have ever thought shy little Noah Nash would wind up being a world famous celebrity?"
He threw his head back and laughed the way he used to when she teased him out of one of his sad moments. "I'm hardly a celebrity."
"Really?" she questioned with a distinct smirk. "How many times have you appeared on TV talk shows?"
Rather than answer, he squeezed her hands then twirled her around in front of him like a ballerina. "You look exactly the same. Except for the short hair. I still had a picture in my head of you with the long ponytail." He stepped back and slowly scanned her from head to toe, lingering just a bit on her breasts. "Hmmm, your boobs look bigger than I remember. Don't tell me you—"
She punched his arm. "I think my not hearing from you in eighteen years revokes your privilege to comment on the size of my boobs. However, I am willing to admit they're all me. Just like the rest of the twenty pounds you're pretending not to notice. But you, geez, Noah, you look amazing. You must have women... and men throwing themselves at you all the time."
She gave him the same once-over he'd given her and the fine hairs on his arms stood up as though static electricity flowed between them. He remembered that happening the first time she touched him, so very, very long ago. "I got lucky. But I've never really enjoyed that part of being a celebrity. Being an author suits the hermit in me. And when I need to be in public, the fame's brought me enough money to buy... security."
"Like this suite?" she asked lightly, looking around.
He grinned and led her over to the sofa. It gave him a reason to keep holding her hand even after they were seated. After all, they used to hold hands all the time. He hadn't planned to be so touchy-feely with her, at least not right away, it just felt so normal, as though only a few weeks had passed since they'd parted. The fact that she didn't try to reclaim her hand made him think she might feel the same way. "You know what I've been doing the last decade. Tell me about yourself."
She shrugged. "There's not much to tell. High school was a lot less fun after you left. I did manage to get an associate's degree in business before I got sick of school. Worked a lot of different kinds of office jobs over the years. Nothing impressive. I tend to stick with temp assignments because I get bored so easily. Plus I love to travel and doing temp work allows me to take a week or so off whenever I get the itch to escape the nine-to-five world... which is pretty often."
When she didn't continue, he urged, "What was your favorite trip?"
She didn't even hesitate. "Exploring the South Dakota-Wyoming area. Mount Rushmore was impressive but my favorite part of that trip was that I got to climb Devil's Tower."
His eyes widened. "You climb?"
Chuckling, she gave him a light punch on his arm. "Don't be so surprised. I've done lots of daring things, especially after finishing a couple really boring temp assignments."
He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. "Like?"
"Oh. Let's see. I jumped out of an airplane once, bungee-jumped off a bridge, raced around the Indy 500 track, did white water rafting through the Grand Canyon... things like that. The scariest for me was spelunking and scuba diving. Definitely didn't care for being underground or underwater, but I think it's important to do things I'm afraid of."
As she gave a few specific examples of temp jobs followed by mini-adventures, disappointment wormed its way into his mind. He had been imagining all sorts of scenarios for this reunion but none of them involved her being an adrenalin junkie—one of the few character traits he could never adapt to or ignore. He stopped himself from pulling his hand away from hers and focused on the rest of her update.
"Mom and Dad retired to Arizona and my kid brother became a plumber. He, his wife and two kids live in Utah. I spent last Christmas with all of them. Um, what else? Well, I've never married, though I did get close once. No kids. Plenty of friends are willing to share theirs. All in all, I have a good life."
"Hmmm, I seem to remember telling you to have a great life, not just a good one."
"I can't believe you remember that too." She smiled warmly and gave another little shrug. "Some of us are destined for great—like you—and some of us are fortunate enough to get good. But now it's your turn. I remember you hated science and math and liked English. And I sort of remember reading some of your short stories, but I don't remember any of them being scary. What made you decide to become a horror author?"
He grinned. "It wasn't so much a decision on my part as what one publisher was willing to buy. To be honest, luck played a big part in how quickly I sold my first book. One of my professors in college had a sister who was a literary agent in New York and he convinced her to take a chance on me. That was twelve years ago."
"And you've been on bestseller lists ever since. I doubt that would have happened unless you were really, really talented. My friend, Tanya, the one who owns the temp agency I'm with, she has every book you've ever written. She says you scare the hell out of her every time."
Tilting his head, he ventured a guess. "But you've never read any of them, right?"
"Sorry. It's not you. It's the genre."
He shook his head. "Not a problem. I actually requested an assistant who wasn't a huge fan."
"Which brings me to my next question. I was told the hotel hired me for you, but you obviously knew I would be here. How?"
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Maybe I've developed psychic powers." He got another smirk for that. The familiarity of it made his insides weak in spite of the major character flaw she had revealed. As much as he had been looking forward to seeing her, he hadn't actually expected the physical attraction to still be so strong. "Do you remember what else I said that last day?"
She furrowed her brow. "Goodbye?"
It had probably been foolish of him to think his last words had been as important to her as they had been to him. "I told you if we were meant to see each
other again, it would happen."
"I remember being annoyed with your indifference. I was really hurt that you could walk away from such a good friendship without even trying to stay in touch. But eventually I realized you were probably right to make a clean break. We had different paths to follow."
He sighed and decided to tell her some of the truth. "Actually, ours was the one friendship I wish I hadn't cut off like I did with all the others before and after you. I've often thought about that over the years. At least I could have told you how angry I was about having to move again. Or how I—" He took a deep breath. "Sorry. None of that's important now. You asked me how I knew you would be here and my answer is, it was meant to be. The older I got, the more I realized life is much more interesting when I let go of the reins."
Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked, "Are you saying my being here today, with you, was somehow planned all along by some superpower?"
His mouth curved up on one side."I believe in fate. It's the only explanation that makes sense. And here's the proof. I had an idea for a new book called Hotel Hellgate—one of those 'you can check in but can't check out' stories." He noted how she wrinkled her nose and chuckled. "Anyway, after doing a lot of research about haunted hotels, I decided the Davenport had everything I was looking for. But I had to wait five months to get a long-term reservation in this suite."
"Yeah, I've heard they stay pretty booked up. Wait. What do you mean long-term? And why this suite?"
He grinned. "I won't know exactly how long I need to stay until I begin working on the story, but the reservation is for two months. As to this suite, it's where my story begins." He paused to gauge her interest level before continuing.
Her eyebrows raised, she leaned toward him and, in a hushed voice, asked, "Did something really horrible happen here?"
He couldn't have been more pleased. "Yes, though probably not as horrible as I'll make it. You see, in 1930, the founder, Robert Davenport, put a bullet through his brain right here, in this penthouse. At least that was the official ruling. The family always insisted foul play was involved."
She gasped. "Are you writing a murder mystery this time?"
"No," he said with a grin. "Well, not as a main thread. Anyway, there were a number of other unsolved deaths and disappearances in and around this hotel. So I figured, if ghosts really do hang around, it seems probable this could be a good place to find them."
She scrunched up her face. "I've heard stories about this island being haunted, but I don't really believe in such things, which is probably good because I don't think I could sleep here if I thought an old ghost was hovering over my bed."
Noah squeezed her hand. "Supposedly, Davenport killed himself in the master bedroom, so your room should be ghost-free. At any rate, I have no interest in proving or disproving those stories. I just figured it would make the perfect backdrop for mine."
She gave his words a moment of thought. "I guess that would work. But that still doesn't explain how I came to be here with you."
His satisfied grin broadened into a full smile. "When it got close to time for me to come here and get started, my assistant was too far along in her pregnancy to be away from her husband and home. I asked the hotel to send me five resumés to review. When I saw your name..." He remembered feeling his heart leap in his chest and excitement race through his bloodstream. "Well, I checked it out, confirmed you were the same Maggie Harrison who helped me pass tenth grade biology, and I told the concierge to give you the job, but under no circumstances were you to be told I selected you. The fact is, if any one of those elements happened differently, you and I would not be here right now. If that's not fate stepping in, I don't know what else you could call it."
"Synchronicity?"
He shrugged. "Same difference. Point is, we were meant to get together again and I'm really looking forward to working with you. It'll be like old times." He was actually hoping it would be nothing like those days.
"Okay, I'm convinced. Only, can I ask one favor?"
His eyes narrowed. "Uh-oh. I seem to remember the last favor was pretty huge." And kept me physically uncomfortable for an entire school year. "I've never been sure we came out even on that one."
She gave him another little punch to his shoulder. "Smartass. This is a little request. Please don't call me Sugarlips again."
He grabbed her hand. "Only if you'll stop punching me."
"Deal," she said with a giggle and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Instantly she jerked away, looking more shocked than he felt. "I'm sorry. I wasn't... it just seemed..."
He leaned toward her, stopping an inch from her mouth and waited for her to retreat again but she didn't move. He could feel her breath exiting in tiny puffs from her parted lips. He lightly touched his lips to hers, giving her a chance to object but instead she exhaled with a soft moan. It was all the encouragement he needed after waiting for so long.
His mouth slanted over hers, deepening the kiss. Her arms snaked around his neck and he pulled her into a full embrace, the way he had only once before but thought of countless times since. His fingers traced the line of her neck and down her arm. She was all silk and heat, melting in his hands. She was no longer the pretty high school girl. She was one-hundred percent woman now. But she was still Maggie.
And this Maggie was an adrenalin junkie. A warning alarm sounded in his mind.
Abruptly breaking the kiss, he leaned back. "I can't... we can't do this."
She blinked several times before speaking. "Of course not. You hired me to do a job for you, not..." She didn't bother to finish.
"Do I need to apologize?" he asked quietly.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Absolutely not. That was all my fault. I broke our rule." As gracefully as she could, she inched back to create more space between them.
He gave her chin a gentle nudge with his bent index finger. "Hey. I didn't nickname you Sugarlips for nothing. But I completely agree. It's never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. So, what do you say we reinstate the 'no kissing' rule?"
She slowly raised her eyelids. "Maybe we need to extend the rule to no touching."
His eyes narrowed and his mouth shifted from left to right as he gave her suggestion some thought. He had thought the memory of how she'd hurt him would be enough to stave off any lingering desire, but apparently neither memories nor time could keep him from banging his head against the same old brick wall.
Besides, he now knew her lifestyle would never match with his, which translated to just another unhappy ending.
Despite all the logical reasons for not doing so, he reached out and held her hand. "I think that's going too far. We touched all the time back then, without leaving the friend zone. Besides, once again, you started it. So I think we'll be fine if you just control your baser impulses." She let out a gasp and raised her fist, but a wink and a grin from him made her smile and lower her hand.
"Seriously though," he added without sounding completely serious. "We just have to remember we both have jobs to do, like when we used to do homework together." Her quick nod of agreement confirmed that she never knew how difficult those hours had been for him. "I was thinking we could go over what I expect from you and some of my work habits first."
Her demeanor changed from friend to professional in an instant. "Perfect. I'll just get my notepad."
As she headed to her room he said, "Would you mind if we did this over dinner? Lunch seems like it was ages ago. Would you prefer the restaurant or room service?"
She arched one brow at him. "I think leaving this room for a few hours would be the wiser option. Then we can come back here and pretend the last five minutes never happened."
"Swell," he mumbled to himself. "We're already back to pretending."
* * *
Maggie took advantage of the break to compose herself. Even though she had come to her senses, she still felt the desire to go back out there and finish what they'd started. She only remembered having that feeling
once before. It was nearly two decades ago. And it was with him.
There had been plenty of times since then when she really wanted to be aroused by a man and her body simply didn't cooperate. Why was it different with Noah? The only answer that came to her was that she was the instigator of the encounter, both back then and just now. Perhaps it was even because there was a chance that women were not his sexual preference. Perhaps, subconsciously, she saw him as a challenge. Yes, that made some sense.
Except, for just a moment, he had seemed as anxious as she was to do more than kiss. It was really very confusing.
She was reapplying lip gloss when she thought she heard Noah call her name. Hurriedly she grabbed her purse and notepad and went out to the living room, but he wasn't there. "Noah?"
"Come in here. Quick."
His voice sounded strained and was coming from the master bedroom. She dropped her things and rushed through the open door. Noah was standing perfectly still in front of a freestanding, full-length mirror. It was framed by a beautiful piece of whitewashed furniture, just like the rest of the pieces in the room.
"Come here," he whispered without moving.
Maggie walked to his side.
"What do you see?" He was still whispering and staring at the mirror.
"Uh, you... in a really large bedroom, acting a little weird."
He stepped aside and pulled her into his former position in front of the mirror. "In the mirror. What do you see in the mirror?"
Some Time Away (Lovers in Time Series, Book 3): Time Travel Romance Page 3