old Southern family, you know, and we do have our traditions
to uphold.”
“I understand. As long as you’re here,” Mica saw the smile
fade from the woman’s face and rushed to reassure her, “I fully
intend for you to continue in your current position—you and
all the staff. You may tell them as much. I wouldn’t dream of
changing anything about Sea Crest.”
Apparent relief brought the smile back to the woman’s face.
“I know you’re busy,” Mica continued, “but would you
have time to show me around? I haven’t visited in a while, and
then I spent most of my time here with Aunt Theo. I want to
familiarize myself with the rest of the inn.”
“It would be my pleasure to show off Sea Crest to its new
owner, but would the morning be soon enough? We have guests
arriving and leaving today.”
“Of course. Tomorrow will be fine.” Mica nodded
agreement, and Anna left to prepare for the new arrivals.
Mica unpacked her things and stored the bags under the
bed before opening the doors to the patio and gardens. She
bent to pinch dead leaves from a rosebush and realized the
plants and flowers weren’t in the best of health. Weeds choked
out some of the verbena, and unwanted ivy tangled among the
azaleas.
Her aunt had refused to hire a gardener, insisting she could
take better care of her babies than anyone else. Because the
gardens remained private and not readily accessible to the inn,
it appeared no one had thought to do anything with them since
her aunt’s death. Mica made a mental note to remedy that
situation.
She sank down on one of the stone benches which
surrounded the fountain and stared at the granite Cupid standing
in the center of a small pool. She cocked her head to the side
and smiled. This Cupid had no little bow and arrows, as the
original concept of Cupid should have.
She recalled a story her aunt used to tell. At the time, Mica
had thought it so romantic. Generations ago, the owner of Sea
Crest had fallen in love with a mysterious lady and had
commissioned a statue of Cupid in Charleston. When delivered,
the workmen accidentally tipped it over on the stones, snapping
off the hand that held the bow and arrows. The man had been
very angry, but the lady had told him she loved him truly and
would not let him have the statue replaced with a new one.
Mica could still hear her aunt’s voice at the end of the story.
“The man then told his beloved it made no difference that
Cupid had no bow and arrows, for his heart had already been
captured by the most wonderful woman in the world, and his
love would be hers throughout all time.” Her aunt would sigh,
then add, “Michaela Marie, someday you’ll find just such a
man, and Sea Crest will be safe in your hands.”
Mica now frowned at Cupid. “You and my aunt must have
crossed signals when it came to me. I sure haven’t met any
man as handsome, endearing, and romantic as Aunt Theo
always said were in her time.”
Feeling foolish talking to a stone statue, Mica left the garden
to wander through the rest of the inn. As a child visiting her
aunt, she had loved to hear stories about Sea Crest. In the early
1800’s, a plantation with acres of crops and flowering gardens
covered the entire island. During the War Between the States,
the manor housed soldiers, then the family turned it into a
boarding house to make ends meet. Eventually, the land around
the manor house was sold to pay taxes.
Over the years other beach houses were built, but the island
still retained much of its primitive atmosphere. She couldn’t
recall when the house had been converted to a bed & breakfast,
but it still stood above the rest of the homes in elegance.
She strolled down a short hallway that opened into the
community living room where guests could enjoy television, a
game of chess, or just relax. She smiled, for this room also
reflected Aunt Theo’s personality. Yellow washed the walls in
cheery brightness. Floral pictures hung on any available wall
space, and fragile porcelain bouquets sat atop the mantle. Like
the rest of the inn, however, the room contained furnishings
from the 1800’s. Even the television and lights were somewhat
disguised in period decoration.
Mica ran her hand over the banister’s natural wood as she
passed the stairs. A small reception table sat in the shadow of
the curved stairway. Although the regulations governing bed
& breakfast inns stipulated a maximum of five guest bedrooms,
the dining room she entered could easily seat fifty. The smooth,
polished sideboard offered guests a buffet-style breakfast. A
huge chandelier had been converted to electricity, but lent the
room a nostalgic air. After the turn of the twentieth century,
the kitchen had been built onto the back of the house, whereas
before it had been a separate structure.
Mica glanced out the back door to find a light rain falling
that would prevent her from walking on the beach. She
shrugged. Long days and nights loomed before her to indulge
in that delight, so she returned to her apartment to relax for the
evening.
***
Mica jerked awake, her neck kinked from where her head
had been cranked lopsided on the couch. The noisy static from
the television indicated it was well past midnight. She rubbed
her neck as she stood and picked up her plate and cup from the
coffee table. What had awakened her? Usually if she fell asleep
in front of the TV, she slept like the dead until morning.
Halfway to the kitchen, she froze. Loud male voices floated
in through the open French doors. While Mica couldn’t discern
what they said, she could hear the anger. She grabbed a
flashlight from the kitchen drawer and cautiously slid the screen
door open and stepped onto the patio flanking the garden.
She frowned as she held her breath to listen. The yellow
circle of light waved back and forth as she searched the garden
for intruders. The voices, though not as loud, were still
disturbing in their intensity. Where on earth did they come from?
She tilted her head. Now, it sounded as though the voices
came from the inn’s second floor. Mica’s exasperation rose as
she stomped back into her apartment. She would not allow
anyone to disturb the other guests, and if they couldn’t keep
the noise down, she would escort them out the door immediately.
The flashlight fell to the couch as she grabbed the wrapper
that matched her silk pajamas, tying the belt as she walked
briskly down the hall and up the stairs. She had no trouble
finding her way since lights were kept on all night.
She softened her steps as she moved down the hall, listening
all the while to the voices. The yelling became loudest when
she reached a door at the opposite end of the hall from the
stairway. She pushed aside any guilt for eavesdropping as she
/>
put her ear to the heavy wood. Strange, though the voices
appeared to come from here, the key remained on her side of
the door, which indicated no guests occupied the room.
Determined to stop the argument as the volume grew, Mica
reached down to turn the key and open the door. A tingle shot
up her arm, crossed her shoulders and settled in her chest to
constrict her breathing. Sounds much like the surf at high tide
pounded in her ears and her vision blurred for an instant. She
jerked her hand from the doorknob as the door swung open to
reveal not a room but a long corridor.
Nervous at the thought of invading another person’s
privacy, but eager to end the commotion, Mica stepped through
the door. Humid air surrounded her as a warm breeze swept
down the hall. She thought perhaps this section had been shut
off for repairs, since apparently the air conditioner didn’t work.
The hallway appeared to have a design similar to the rest of
the inn. Plush carpet tickled her bare feet, and the hall contained
dim lights of the same style. Most of the doors along the corridor
were closed, and no light filtered beneath them.
She stepped through the first door she found ajar, expecting
to confront the unruly people and ask them to keep it down,
but she found the room empty. She forgot her reason for coming
upstairs as the glamour of a bygone era wrapped her in warmth
and welcome. Burnished oak furniture and book-lined shelves
filled the room.
The only illumination came from an antique oil lamp on
the desk, and she reached behind her for a light switch. Not
immediately finding one, she moved across the room and turned
up the lamp’s wick, frowning. Anna should not use such a
dangerous source of light in this corridor. Although lending an
historical air to the room, if a lamp should tip over—Mica
shuddered at the thought.
The books on the far wall captured her attention. When
she moved to examine them, she released a soft, slow whistle.
One of Aunt Theo’s ancestors had spared no expense in
recreating the past, she thought as she pulled a heavy volume
from the shelf. She caressed the leather-bound tome as she
read the title, embossed on the rib in gold leaf.
In her surprise, she nearly dropped the book as she quickly
glanced up at the other volumes. Law books—all of them —in
mint condition even though the ribs stated they were South
Carolina Law Statutes for 1840! She would definitely have to
ask Anna Harris about this section of the inn.
***
The downstairs clock struck twelve as T. Logan Rutledge
stood silent and undetected at the doorway to his study. It would
appear his housekeeper’s newfangled idea of carpet in the
hallway served more purpose than ordinary comfort for his
plantation home. The plush covering must have muffled his
footsteps as he returned to his study.
Arguing with his stepbrother, Neil, all the way out the front
door, he had not been quiet as he stormed back upstairs. Now,
he must deal with another intruder in his home. His anger still
simmered, and he opened his mouth to castigate her, but for
some reason the raven-haired beauty’s womanly curves softened
his anger and turned his blood warm.
For just an instant, he wondered if this could be another of
Neil’s tricks. No, his stepbrother had the habit of foreshadowing
his hand, and Logan never had trouble reading his mind.
He heard a soft whistle then a gasp as the woman pulled a
book from the shelf. Thinking she was another of his
housekeeper’s myriad assortment of cousins and nieces, he felt
sure she gasped from the weight of the book, since most of the
lower class could not read. Before he could reprimand her for
wandering above stairs, she moved towards the desk light and
he caught a glimpse of long, trim legs through the silk of her
wrapper. Was he mistaken, or were those trousers she wore
beneath the calf-length jacket?
Captivated, he watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind
one ear. Odd, but he could never recall seeing such a statement
in contradictions. Here stood a beautiful woman, but with hair
as short as a man’s and wearing trousers. Still, she was a
fetching piece, and he thought perhaps he’d take advantage of
her presence.
“Excuse me?” He said, coughing discreetly.
The woman screeched at his simple words and whirled to
face him, the book clasped against her bosom. Logan’s breath
caught when she came full into his view, her blue eyes wide
and her dark brows lifted in an expression of surprise.
She stood before him wrapped in peach silk, her black
hair swirling about her face, and her eyes huge. With the light
now behind her, he could see most of the rest of her slim figure
beneath the thin covering she wore. What he saw enticed him
to gamble that she had not been sent by his conniving
stepbrother, but had ventured from below stairs to visit the
master of Indigo Bay.
He stepped further into the room and poured himself a
brandy from the glass decanter behind his desk. She didn’t say
a word. When he gestured to her with the glass, she shook her
head and clutched his law book closer to her breasts. He gave
a hearty sigh.
“Are you another of Mattie’s cousins, or a niece, perhaps?”
“Mattie?” She managed to squeak out the one word.
“Ah-ha, so you are. I thought as much. Most times, though,
her relatives are too timid to show themselves above stairs.
You are different.” He downed the last of the brandy, set his
glass back on the cart, and walked over to stand in front of her.
She was tall for a female, for she tilted her head only slightly
to look him in the eye. She smelled of fresh air and sunshine,
and his fingers itched to touch her sun-kissed skin. Never had
a woman so quickly captivated him. Under normal
circumstances, he kept a very tight rein on his emotions, but
she drew him closer with her sky-blue eyes and pouting lips.
Were her lips as soft and hot as they appeared? His mind
rushed headlong over a waterfall of emotions, and he had yet
to know her name, much less kiss her.
And he did want to kiss her. More than once. Why shouldn’t
he? After all, why else had she come to his study dressed so
seductively if she were not some promiscuous miss out for an
adventure?
“I will relieve you of your burden.” He gently removed the
book from her clasp. “In the future, please do not take the
liberty of removing these books unless you’re dusting the room.
They’re far too precious to me, and besides, they have no
pictures to glance upon.”
“Law books?”
Ah, they were making progress, for she uttered two words
that time, and apparently was smarter than most, for she could
read. He reached past her to put the book back on the shelf,
and his chest came into contact with hers. Instant
fire scorched
him even as he heard her suck in her breath.
She stared at him. Sooty lashes blinked rapidly as though
she was trying to clear her vision. The heat of her already burned
into him, and he felt the urgent need to kiss her pink lips that
even now trembled so close to his. He lowered his head toward
hers.
Mica’s heart refused to slow down as the stranger moved
close to her. Even though she knew he meant to kiss her, she
felt more curious than threatened. Tall and dark, he wore a
white shirt with billowing sleeves and snug black pants that
disappeared into the tops of knee high black boots. She noticed
he had his dark hair clubbed back, though bits curled around
his angular face. Mica caught a hint of humor in his gaze, along
with something far more dangerous.
Instinct shouted this was his domain, and she tried to regain
her composure and come up with a reason for being in his
room. However, her composure slipped drastically when he
took the book from her and replaced it on the shelf.
And touched her in doing so.
Mica gasped when their bodies came into contact. The hard
muscle beneath the soft linen of his shirt caused her breasts to
ache in reaction to his touch. Heat branded her, and her heart
thudded a dangerous beat. She knew she should ask him to
back up because he was a virtual stranger. Handsome, but still
unknown.
Nothing could have prepared her for the seductive power
of his brown eyes—dark, penetrating eyes capable of reading
her most intimate thoughts. Tiny worry lines crinkled at their
corners, and she felt an unbidden desire to touch him and soothe
the frown from his face. His gaze captured hers. Black brows
rose in question.
Yes, her mind screamed, regardless of the question.
Overwhelmed by the pure sensuality of the man, she didn’t
move a fraction as he lowered his lips to hers. Just before his
eyes closed, she caught a glimpse of passion in their dark
depths.
His kiss dissolved any defenses she may have constructed,
and she groaned as his arms circled her to pull her closer. She
couldn’t remember ever being kissed this way. His lips, firm
and warm, touched her with gentle persuasion, yet she could
sense the underlying passion. His mouth traveled from her lips
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