by Juniper Bell
She jumped at the question, as if he’d read her mind. Walking back to the living room, she saw the suddenly reserved look in his dark blue eyes. While checking out her ass, he must have suddenly remembered she was married.
“Polling very well. He should have a good chance.” She perched back on her armchair.
“I’m sure he does. What could possibly stop him?” Dustin shook his head and gazed into the fire.
“Divorce.”
His head snapped around. “Seriously?”
“If you’re a tabloid reporter, no. If you’re my childhood friend, then yes.”
“I won’t say anything. Except, I’m glad. Not exactly the polite response, but there it is. I never trusted him.”
“You were wiser than I was.” The glass in her hands gleamed in the firelight. The glow softened as tears came to her eyes. Why hadn’t anyone in her life given her one word of warning about Andrew Garwood? What if she’d had a big brother, someone like Dustin, to tell her exactly what he thought of the golden boy everyone admired?
A sudden flash made her blink. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any paparazzi following you around?” Dustin rose and peered out the window.
Paparazzi. For a moment, Chloe froze. At certain society events, she and Andrew had been the focus of flashing bulbs. They were often mentioned in the gossip pages of their local newspaper. And then there were those other photos…
“No one there. It was probably a reflection from the lighthouse,” said Dustin, still at the window. “Maybe light caught a boat window.” He turned back toward her, silhouetted against the dark picture window, and Chloe felt a sudden flush of desire that made her sway in her chair.
She had to get out of there, before…before she didn’t know what. She jumped up from the armchair. “Can I…well, I’ve always wondered about your widow’s walk.”
If he was confused by her unpredictable behavior, he didn’t show it. “The MacDougal claim to fame,” he said easily. “Tell you what, why don’t I show you the way, and you can enjoy the view while I fry up these fish.”
“You don’t have to do that.” For a split second, she tried to imagine Andrew frying fish so she could enjoy a view, but her mind boggled.
“Old family recipe, I’d be proud to show it off. See those stairs? Just head straight up. I’ll come get you when the fish is ready.”
It was a fine plan, but as soon as Chloe started up the stairs, she realized leaving Dustin’s presence did nothing to diminish her mysterious newfound desire for him. Get a grip, she scolded herself. This is ridiculous.
The widow’s walk was a cozy little octagonal room with window seats under wide picture windows. Eight windows, looking out in eight different directions. Chloe stood in the middle and turned in a circle. The view, even at night, was breathtaking. She felt like an eagle perched on a high branch, surveying wind-whipped trees, storm clouds, a dark road, a few lights winking through the trees, and, far out on the ocean, the blinking lighthouse. A little door led to a balcony, but with the wild wind, Chloe didn’t dare open it. The wind battered against the windows, making the entire widow’s walk shudder. She sat on one of the window seats and listened to the symphony of moans and whistles. Far below, she heard the ocean swells crashing against the rocks.
Strange how the wind seemed to be flinging itself at the windows. As if it wanted to get in. To get to her. It sounded like a bitter roar, like Andrew when she’d screwed up every ounce of her courage and told him she wanted a divorce. You’ll never get the kids. You’ll never survive without me. You’ll never find a man who will put up with a frigid ice bitch like you. She shivered. If Andrew really wanted to keep the girls, how would she fight him? She would have to go public with her side of the story, which would bring humiliation not only to her, but also to her kids. Would it be worth it?
A gust of wind rattled the door to the balcony. She rose and went to it. When she turned the knob, the door flew open with a bang. With the salty ocean air full on her face, she stepped onto the balcony, into a world of wild darkness. The wind howled and swirled around her. Instead of attacking her, it filled her with a strange, primal strength. Andrew didn’t have the right to keep her a helpless sex doll her whole life. She’d done enough. Gone along with his strange needs. Until he’d pushed her too far.
Again, she saw the back room where he’d brought her and his biggest fundraiser, a fat man who always managed to grab a feel whenever she greeted him. She knew he wanted her, Andrew knew he wanted her. This wasn’t one of their usual secret parties, where her face was hidden behind a mask. This was a political party, where their friends and other power brokers were socializing over cocktails and crab cakes. But Andrew had told her to unzip her jacket so the man could feel her breasts. And then he’d pushed her to her knees and left the room. The fat man had unzipped his pants hurriedly and thrust his penis at her mouth. He’d grabbed at her nipples and she’d cried out in pain, but he didn’t notice, or care. Enough, she’d thought. No more. Her parents hadn’t raised her to prostitute herself. She’d jumped to her feet, slapped him in the face, and that night, still riding the adrenaline of anger, she’d told Andrew she wanted out.
He couldn’t stop her. Just like no one could stop the wind that whipped against her legs and made her hair flap crazily against her face. She raised her arms into the air as if she were a sail catching the wind. Energy raced through her. It was exhilarating. It made her laugh out loud. It made her feel like a hundred-foot-high force of nature.
“Hey,” came a voice behind her. Dustin caught her waist from behind. “Don’t do anything crazy now.”
Crazy. She turned and threw her arms around his neck. With the wind now at her back, pushing her toward him, she yanked his head down to hers. In the dark, his eyes gleamed, startled. Maybe he said something, but the wind snatched the words away, and she didn’t want him to talk anyway. She wanted his mouth next to her, on her, and as soon as his lips touched hers, a current of something thrilling scorched through her body. Promise and excitement, as powerful as the storm winds, took her breath away. Strong, warm hands on her back snatched her closer to him. She was pressed into a hard chest, every line of his body melding with hers.
Shaking, she opened her mouth under his and moaned as his tongue entered her. So this was passion, this was desire. This was what it was like when a woman wanted a man. Nothing in her life had ever felt this good.
The swell of his arousal pushed against her thigh. She wanted to push him to the floor, roll on top of him, and fuck his brains out right there in the wind-battered tower high above the cliffs. But suddenly Andrew’s voice was loud in her head. Frigid ice princess. What a disappointment you are. It’s a good thing you’re so hot, or I’d dump you right now.
What if she disappointed Dustin too? What if she really was frigid, like Andrew said, and this crazy lust was just an illusion, fickle as the wind?
She pulled away. “I…I can’t.”
Dustin immediately took his hands from her back. “Is it Andrew? The divorce?” He ran his hands through his hair, as if to keep from reaching for her. She longed passionately for his hands to be on her body again.
Instead, she stepped back. “No. I’m just…not like that.”
Still breathing fast, he stared at her blankly. “Like what?”
“Sexual. Normal. You wouldn’t understand.” She ran to the stairs leading back to the house. “I’m sorry.” Without looking back, she stumbled down the stairs and ran back to her little cottage under the maples.
Chapter Four
“How’s Barbie doing?” In the back of the dinghy, Gary blew on the end of his cigarette to keep it lit. Dustin pulled on the oars and scowled at him. The last person he wanted to discuss Chloe with was hangover-ridden, shaky Gary. Too bad he needed his help on the boat this morning. He would have much preferred being alone with his confused thoughts.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. And put that thing out.”
“A
w, come on. With this fog, nothing’s gonna catch fire.”
The storm had blown over late last night, and today a thick fog blanketed Bellhaven. “I don’t care. It goes over the side, or you do.”
With an evil look, Gary flicked the cigarette over the side. It hissed as it hit the water. “You seeing her?”
“What?”
“Just asking. People are talking.”
“No. And if anyone says anything, you tell them no.” He pulled up alongside his lobster boat, tied up the dinghy, and climbed onboard. The familiar smell of diesel and tar surrounded him. Gary climbed after him, shivering in the chilly fog.
Dustin lifted the hatch that covered the engine. He’d heard a knocking sound yesterday on the way back from town. As he’d suspected, a bearing was loose. “Hand me the wrench,” he called to Gary.
“You going to see her again?”
“Leave it alone, Gary.” Was he going to see her again? He wasn’t sure his sanity could take it. Last night he’d gotten about two hours of sleep. He kept remembering the way she’d looked on the balcony, her delicate body balanced against the wind, as if she’d wanted to launch herself off into it. Pure terror had shot through him. When she’d thrown herself at him instead, it had seemed like some kind of drug-induced hallucination. Chloe Barnes, in his arms, her body hot against his. Not fragile as he’d always imagined. Fiery. Wild. Incredible.
But then she’d suddenly frozen up and said those crazy things. She wasn’t sexual or normal? What did that mean? Probably that she regretted her impulse and said anything that came into her head.
He sure didn’t regret it. Even if he never saw her again. At least he’d had her sweet body in his arms, and her burning lips under his. She’d tasted of wild raspberries.
“Gary, get me one of those hoses from under the seat.” No answer from Gary. Dustin pulled his head out of the engine hatch. Gary was squinting toward the shore.
“There’s your girl now. I think she’s headed your way. Yup, she’s turning into your yard. She’s hot for you, all right. You should see what she’s wearing.”
“The hose, Gary. Or you’re fired.” It took all Dustin’s strength of will not to jump back in the dinghy and row like a demon back to his house before Chloe disappeared again. But no matter what, he didn’t want to spook her. Something deep inside told him she needed gentleness and patience—kind of like his quirky engine.
Gary handed him the hose and Dustin set to work on his engine, which was easy compared to figuring out Chloe Barnes.
Disappointed, Chloe walked through the fog back to her cottage. Her speech to Dustin, which would try to explain her bizarre behavior, would have to wait for another time. She’d go back to her lonely house, with only the fairies to talk to. And more boxes to rifle through. They seemed to be endless.
The house was so quiet this afternoon. She was used to having her girls around, and servants, and other hangers-on. The girls were in school right now, so she couldn’t even call them. This was the first time she’d been away from them since Merry was born, nine years ago. It was painful, how much she missed them. She tiptoed up the stairs to the attic, where the boxes waited.
Sighing, she kneeled next to a box full of books. Instead of opening it, she stared out the window into the fog. It created a soft cocoon around the house. All of a sudden, instead of feeling lonely, she felt safe. Here in this dusty attic, surrounded by her mother’s boxes, hidden by fog, no one could hurt her.
Even a knock on the door didn’t destroy that peaceful feeling. Instead, it sent a quick thrill through her. So far, only one person had knocked on her door. She peered out the attic window and saw the now-familiar dark blue watch cap. She knocked on the glass, and called, “Come on in. I’m up in the attic.”
He must have heard, because after a pause the front door opened, his footsteps crossed the room, and the stairs to the attic creaked. And then, there he was, crouching under the crossbeam with a wry smile. Droplets of fog clung like silver beads to his black hair. Another sparkled on his eyebrow. He looked wonderful. Slightly hunched, he stood at the center of the attic. She stood too.
“I went to your house,” she said.
“I know. I wasn’t there.”
“I know. I wanted to—”
“So I came to your house.”
“I know.”
They both smiled at the silliness of this exchange. Chloe felt slightly giddy, like a balloon about to float free.
“I was worried about you last night,” he said.
“I must have seemed nuts.”
“No. Well, yes, but…I’d like to understand.”
She looked away, out the fogbound window. More than anything, she wanted this fresh new feeling that Dustin inspired in her. Would she soil it by talking about Andrew? Or would ignoring the past keep her chained to it forever? But she wanted Dustin to understand.
“I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you like that.”
He shook his head. “It’s not like I minded.” But still, a question simmered in his midnight blue eyes.
If only she could explain it right. Ribbons of fog caressed the window. She was in a warm cocoon, and the man standing in front of her was quiet and still, waiting for her to speak. Kind, strong Dustin. He was a man, not a bully. Again, that feeling of utter safety came over her. At the same time, excitement sparked to life inside her. Finally she looked back at him. “Andrew…didn’t treat me very well. S-sexually.”
His face changed. Not in the way she’d feared. He didn’t look judgmental. But right now, she was glad she was Chloe, not Andrew.
She continued. “I was like a doll to him. A prize to show off. He didn’t care about my feelings at all. My—satisfaction. I didn’t know any better. I was so young, so incredibly naïve. I thought it was my duty to make my husband happy. I came to think I wasn’t very sexual, like other people. Not normal.”
“Andrew’s an ass. He always was. He didn’t know how to treat a fish, let alone a woman.”
That made her giggle. The sound lightened up the serious atmosphere inside the attic.
“Look, I want you, Chloe. I probably always did. You were like this fairy child dancing around Bellhaven.”
“I’m not a child now.”
“No. But I don’t want to hurt you. I can leave right now, leave you in peace.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” But that wasn’t the full truth. Something more welled up within her and spilled from her lips, before she could stop it. “I want to make love with you.” She flushed pink at the sound of her words in the quiet air. But she couldn’t take them back now. Nor did she want to.
Dustin stared at her, like a curious seal watching from the waves. “Why?”
“Because…” She searched for the right words. “I want you. And I haven’t felt that way—well, I never got a chance to feel that way. I want to know what it’s like to have sex because I want to have sex. Do you understand? Only if you want to too, of course.”
“I think I understand,” he answered slowly. He frowned, as if debating with himself. “If we make love, it’s only on one condition.”
“Condition?”
“If you change your mind, if you start feeling bad in any way, you tell me, and we stop.”
“That’s your condition?” She took a step forward, and his eyes darkened. With one finger, she reached out and touched the drop of moisture on his eyebrow. She brought her wet finger to her tongue.
“Yes,” he said in a strangled voice. She saw his hands twitch, but he kept them firmly by his side. What a delicious feeling, to be in control. Dancing her fingers up his chest, she pursed her lips.
“What if I don’t agree to that?”
“Then I walk out of here right now. I’m serious, Chloe. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I agree. I don’t want to talk anymore. Are you going to just stand there all day?” She poked him in the chest. He caught her hand in his.
“I wouldn’t mind. But we could stand a little closer.” He pulled her against him. Her insides melted into a pool of heat. She nestled her head between his chin and his chest, so the flannel of his work shirt rubbed against her cheek. The smell of salt air and diesel clung to him.
“Have you been on your boat?” she asked dreamily, as he ran his hands over her back.
“Had to fix a bearing. That engine’s always making some noise or other. Sometimes I think it just wants my attention.”
“I don’t blame it.” He found the lower edge of her sweater and snaked his hand under it. At the feel of his work-roughened palm on her skin, a shudder went through her. Immediately he stopped.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes! You’re not following the rules. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you. I don’t want you to stop. As a matter of fact—” She drew away from him. “Let’s take off our clothes. Together. At the same time.”
He looked amused. “On the count of three?”
“One…” She stepped out of her skirt. Underneath, she wore woolly leggings for warmth. “Two…” She started to pull off the leggings.
“Hang on! You’re getting ahead of me.” He unbuttoned his jeans, revealing boxers and a huge erection. She felt the breath leave her body.
It was a good feeling.
She put her hands to the hem of her sweater and slid it over her head. It was quickly followed by her turtleneck. She stood in front of him, wearing only her pink lace underwear, while he unbuttoned his flannel shirt. Under it, he wore a “Save the Whales” T-shirt, which she found so endearing, she laughed.
“Am I that funny-looking?” he asked with a wounded look.
“I didn’t know you were a tree-hugger.”
“Some of my best friends are trees.” There was a twinkle in his deep blue eyes that put her completely at ease. “The rest are whales.”
“I think that might be a whale in your pants.”
He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously, then laughed, an infectious chuckle that made her answer with one of her own. Never before had she laughed during sex, or the buildup to sex. Never before had she even smiled. Or joked. Or teased. If they stopped right now, this would still be a groundbreaking experience for her. But she had no intention of stopping. “You’re still wearing boxers and a T-shirt.”