by Jan Springer
“Damn good beer,” he complimented between a couple of lip-tingling smacks. The old men grumbled their approval and they all set back to chatting amongst themselves or reading their newspapers.
Garrett set a heaping bowl full of chocolate-covered twisted pretzels in front of Chance.
“Anything else?”
“This’ll do for now.”
Garrett nodded, the puzzled expression now firmly in place as he grabbed the dirty towel and a somewhat cloudy-looking beer mug from a half-full dish tray. He resettled himself by leaning his hip against the sparkling mirror that lined the entire back wall and watched Chance.
He knew from previous experience the kid was now working hard to figure out something. It sure wasn’t his homework.
“So, where’s your old man?” he asked the kid.
“Retired. Moved to Florida.” He nodded his head as if he finally figured it all out.
“You know my dad.”
“I met him a few times. Long time ago. How’s he doing?”
“He’s as happy as a clam dropping out of a net. Found himself a woman. They’re living together in a retirement village in some trailer park south of Homestead.”
A warm feeling slithered through Chance hearing Jake had finally settled down again. Jake Rustico’s wife had died tragically when a vicious storm capsized the fishing boat they owned. He hadn’t been able to save her and watched her drown. In an instant he’d turned into a widower with four kids to feed. The oldest Jake Jr. had been fifteen.
Garrett, the youngest, had been seven. Jake took out a loan, started up Jake’s Bar & Grill and raised his kids, making each one promise they would never work the sea. From the looks of Garrett acting as barkeep, at least the youngest had kept his word.
“How do you know my dad?”
“Lived around here for a short time. Way back.” Chance helped himself to a handful of the tiny pretzels. It wasn’t a lie. Emily and he had flown from New York for many weekends before they moved to Shipwreck Island.
Garrett nodded then his eyes casually glanced over Chance’s shoulder. He knew instinctively Garrett had spotted something awry.
“You’ve got yourself a tail,” Garrett said matter-of-factly.
“How do you know he’s tailing me?”
“Hey, man, I’m a barkeep during the day. At night I’m a cop. I know a tail when I see one.” Garrett casually placed the mug he’d been cleaning onto a nearby shelf and threw the dirty towel over his shoulder. “Besides, came in right after you. He’s just inside the hallway. Hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you arrived. Want me to get rid of him?”
“I’ll handle it. How much do I owe you?”
Garrett grinned and shook his head.
“On the house. For old times’ sake.”
Chance nodded his thanks. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”
“All yours. While you’re at it, the exit is that way too.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
The puzzled expression sauntered back onto Garrett’s face. Chance had always called the kid “Captain” because of his dream of captaining his own fishing boat one day. Obviously he’d listened to his old man instead of following his heart.
Chance eased himself off the barstool. Without looking at the door or the shadowy silhouette, he ignored the old cronies’ curious glances as they watched him saunter toward the back hallway.
The instant he slipped out of sight, Chance eased himself into another hallway that he knew led to outside. He resisted the urge to head for the exit. Resisted the urge to run. Instead, he stopped.
Cautiously he slid out the gun he’d brought along. He’d secured it into the waistband of his jeans when he’d gone back to the lighthouse to lock up. In quick unison he slid off the safety catch, checked to make sure the clip was full and then held the gun firmly in his right hand while he got ready to reach out to grab the culprit with his left.
He didn’t have long to wait. The old floorboards creaked a warning as one set of fast-paced footsteps headed down the hallway.
His fingers tightened on the trigger, and the instant he sensed the intruder within reach, his reflexes, honed from many years of fighting to survive, went into action. Jerking the person right into the hallway with him, he shoved the intruder smack up against the wall. Before he could even blink, Chance had the gun pressed against a soft temple. Wide dark brown eyes blinked in shock at him.
“Emily! What the hell are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer. As a matter of fact her face had turned as pale as a ghost and her entire body trembled with terror against him.
He dropped the gun from her head and closed his eyes as a massive wall of fear threatened to knock him over. “I almost blew your head off.”
“What’s with the gun?” she whispered.
“I thought you were somebody else.”
She shook her head in disbelief, sending a few wisps of blonde hair straying onto her left cheek.
“I’m glad I’m not,” she replied, blowing out a breath of relief.
“I’m so sorry. I thought I was being followed.”
“What do you mean followed?”
Alertness swept into her face and Chance ignored her question. “Did you see someone lurking in the doorway when you came in?”
“No.”
“He must have slipped out when he saw you coming.”
“Who?”
“What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the boutique?”
Now that the danger was over, he felt the warmth of her body begin to seep through his clothes, making him fully aware he was pressing Emily into the wall.
“I saw you come in here after I said goodbye to Helena.”
“She’s gone?”
“Yes, she had an appointment.”
Chance sighed with relief. Helena and her nosy questions were gone.
Color seeped back into her face and suddenly her eyes flashed with anger as she looked at his gun.
“For heaven’s sake put that gun away. Canadians don’t own fancy handguns like that. I hope you have a permit for carrying it in this country.”
Chance grinned despite himself. Emily had always hated guns. Another reason she’d left the States and come back to her homeland of Canada. He slid the safety catch into place and shoved the weapon back into the waistband of his jeans, making sure to pull his shirt and jacket over it to conceal it.
“Well? Do you?” she asked.
“What?”
“Have a permit to carry it here?”
“No.” Her eyes widened at his admission. “I do have it registered in the States. I snuck it through customs while I hitchhiked over.”
“My God, Chance. You live too dangerously. Hitchhiking and smuggling illegal weapons are not good habits to have.”
“Maybe you can try to break me of these bad habits.” He chuckled. “Although…us being so close is a habit I’d like to keep. Thank you very much.”
At his soft-spoken words her heart pounded frantically against his chest and he knew instinctively the fear had slid from her body, replaced by something else. Awareness. Of him.
He sure as hell was aware of her too. Wide, sparkling eyes stared back at him. A man could drown in those bottomless eyes and never find his way back out. If he were smart, he’d stop staring into them before she pulled him under her magnetic spell and he lost all common sense.
And self-control.
Then again, he figured it was already too late to regain common sense. Especially since Emily’s luscious, warm curves snuggled against his muscles, making his body remember all those times he’d made love to her. And all those naughty things he’d wanted to do to her but never got the chance. He found himself growing hard.
She must have felt his growing erection because a shiver trembled through her. Her sweet, feminine scent swarmed all around him. Captured him. Prevented him from releasing his grip on her.
Examining her silky-looking mouth, he wondered if she s
till tasted as heavenly as he remembered.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he found himself whispering.
Oh yeah, he was definitely going to kiss her.
The succulent heat of her mouth melting beneath his lips shocked his senses, sending pleasure straight down into his toes and right up into his brain. It was an intense pleasure. Drugging. Raw and untamed, it was almost painful at how sweet she tasted.
He kissed her. Hard.
And damned if she didn’t answer back just as hard. He could barely breathe as her hands dropped to his hips. Could barely think as her tongue pressed against his lips and his senses went into overload. Opening his mouth, he let her in and he just about exploded. Her tongue tasted so good, just like he always remembered. Hell, she tasted even better.
Need shifted through him like a tidal wave. Strong and violent. He pressed his cock against her lower abdomen. Heard her answer with an erotic moan of approval.
Jesus. She sounded so good.
Lifting her sweater, he splayed his palms against her breasts. Momentary disappointment shot through him as he felt the lacy bra meet his hands. Hell, why was she wearing one?
The distorted thought disintegrated as she pushed her lower half against his cock, wanting a harder contact. Ripping his mouth from hers, he came up for air. Kissing her neck, he felt the frantic pulse hammering there.
“I want to make love to you, Emily,” he whispered as he kissed her delicate earlobe.
She shivered against him, enjoying what he was saying.
“I want to fuck you so deeply and so hard. I want to taste your pussy and I want my cock in your mouth. I shouldn’t be saying this,” he murmured as a sharp blade of reality sliced through him.
To his surprise she smiled and Chance’s heart filled with love.
“I want that too,” she said breathlessly.
Jesus. Had he imagined her saying that?
Her eyes closed and her beautiful rosebud lips parted, and he found himself lowering his head for another taste of her.
“Should take that to the hotel next door.”
Chance jerked at the familiar voice from beside them and looked over to find Garrett Rustico watching them. Emily swore softly and struggled to move away from Chance, but he held her still with his body.
“And I’m assuming you have a good reason for interrupting us?” Chance asked, trying to act casual at having been found kissing Emily.
“That fellow who was following you just slipped out the front door,” Garrett said, obviously trying like hell from keeping an amused smile off his face.
This time it was Chance’s turn to swear. Stepping away from the seductive warmth of Emily, he turned to leave, but her firm grip on his elbow stopped him cold.
“Don’t go,” she said. Alarm sliced across her ashen face and Garrett moved to block him from leaving too.
“She’s right,” Garrett replied, his dark brows drawn downward with concern. “The guy is long gone. I do have a description, if you’re interested?”
“Shoot,” Chance said.
“Six foot two. Black hair. Crew cut. Well-trimmed black moustache. Thin slit of a mouth. Wearing a black suit. Smells like a cop, but more likely a government lawyer of some kind.”
An icy shiver shifted aside all his heated desire as he immediately guessed who it could be. If his suspicions were right, it meant someone had recognized the name he’d given in prison and so easily shared when he’d been at the Timber Sports competition for the mere reason of looking for a reaction from Skip. Hell, if the break-in the other night hadn’t convinced him that Skip knew his identity, then this man who’d been following him sure made him realize he’d brought danger down on Emily. Big-time danger.
“You know him?” Emily asked.
“No,” Chance lied.
“I can get a sketch artist to draw up the face,” Garrett said.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Case of mistaken identity.”
“Seems to be a lot of that going around today.” Another shot of uneasiness zapped him as Garrett threw Chance a wink.
“What do you mean?” Emily asked.
“Inside joke, Emily.” Garrett replied as he stared softly at the woman who’d been his first teenage crush.
“Listen, I have to get back to the bar. The dinner hour group is starting to come in.”
“Thanks, Garrett.” Chance extended his hand and they shook.
“Anytime, Skipper.” Skipper was Garrett’s nickname for Chance and he didn’t miss the way the young man studied him for a reaction. Despite his uneasiness Chance forced himself to remain stoic. He’d definitely played this game too far.
“What in the world is going on between you two? Do you know each other?”
“Chance and I were just gabbing about old times with Steve a bit earlier. So anyways, I gotta go. Like I said before, take it to the hotel next time around. One of the old fisherman might come back and get a heart attack if they see what’s going on here.”
“Why a hotel when we have a lighthouse?” Chance whispered after Garrett left. Her face flushed pink at his suggestion but she said nothing.
He slid his hand in hers and ushered her toward the back door.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Nine
“So? What was with the jumpy routine back at Jake’s?” Emily had waited until they were halfway back to Shipwreck Island before asking the question so he wouldn’t be able to run away and not answer her.
Her emotions were all over the place at what had just happened back at Jake’s Bar. She really didn’t want to deal with how easily she’d allowed herself to be kissed. Let alone for agreeing to those hot things he’d said to her about wanting to go down on her and wanting her to go down on him and, oh God, she was engaged to another man.
She had to be calm it down between Chance and herself.
“You talking about my cock? Or the nice way you were pushing up against me when I kissed you?”
“Obviously you’re trying to embarrass me into silence with those remarks, but it won’t work. It’s not every day someone sticks a gun at my head, Chance. I deserve an explanation.”
He kept his eyes glued to the salt-encrusted front window of Sweet Lies as he expertly guided the boat along the generous ocean swells.
Silence.
“I want an answer. It’s quite obvious by the stunned surprise on your face that you recognized that man Garrett was talking about. Who is he? Why does he frighten you so much?”
“Mistaken identity, Em. That’s all.”
“Sorry, but I’m not buying it.”
“I’m not selling.”
“Why are you afraid?”
“Garrett thought the guy was tailing me so he gave me a description. That’s it.”
“Bull!”
He glanced at her. His look of stone-cold warned to back off the subject. A shiver of unease sliced through her when she realized he wasn’t afraid for himself but for her.
Her heart scrambled into her chest. “So there is a story. Someone is following you. What about the break-in? It had to do with you, didn’t it?”
“The subject is off limits.”
“When you’re living under my roof, the subject is open for discussion.”
“The living arrangements can easily be changed,” he said.
“You mean you’d move out before telling me what’s going on?”
He didn’t answer, but the firm set to his jaw and his tense stance told her he would.
“Typical man.”
His head snapped around and he glared at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’d rather keep all your emotions bottled up inside instead of telling me what’s going on.” She tried to rein in her anger by inhaling a deep breath. It didn’t work. “I have a right to know if you’re in danger.”
“Since when? We’re not a couple.”
“Could have fooled me by that kiss in Jake’s Bar,” Em
ily muttered beneath her breath.
“It was the adrenaline rushing through my system. I was saying things I shouldn’t have. Especially to an engaged woman. I was wrong. It won’t happen again. Another bad habit I need to break.”
His confession made an eerie sadness clutch at her heart.
“Fine. You’re still not off the hook, Chance. Are you in danger?”
“Everything is under control. You don’t need to worry.”
“I won’t worry if you don’t.”
He threw her a disgruntled glance then focused his attention back to the ocean ahead. The waves were still too choppy to do seaweeding today. She’d make them some lunch and leave Chance to do what he wanted. It would give her some time to try to crack the password preventing her from getting into Steve’s computer. Chance and the break-in were connected. But how? And damned if she would ask him since he wasn’t answering her questions anyway.
Emily bit her lower lip. Someone was after Chance and he was scared. She could smell the raw fear lurking all around him. Keeping quiet never solved problems. She’d always tried to knock that phrase into Steve’s thick skull too. He never listened to her, either.
She hugged herself as another icy chill bit through her insides. No one was going to harm Chance Donovan. Not if she had anything to say about it.
* * * * *
Emily shook her head in puzzlement as she tried to think up yet another password to enter into the laptop. The hammering she heard drifting up from the beach made her thoughts return to the mysterious Chance Donovan and their conversation as they’d returned from town.
The subject was off limits he’d said. Like hell. He had thrown her against the wall and poked a gun against her temple for a reason. Someone was following him. Who? Why?
Garrett had mentioned the man looked like a cop or some kind of lawyer. What kind of trouble was following Chance?
Why hadn’t he denied the lighthouse break-in had to do with him? The person who’d broken into her tower had been looking for something, but what? How had they known the laptop was in that wall after all these years?