“Spence. Call me Spence.”
“I don’t think I’ve gotten off on the right foot here. I …” Erin trailed off. She stared out the sliding glass doors at the back bay and licked her swollen lips. “If you want me to leave, I understand. I’m sure I can find a hotel on the island.”
“Are you thirsty?”
“What?”
“Are you thirsty? You keep licking your lips like you’re thirsty.”
She bit her lower lip, confirming the fact that they were still there although she still couldn’t feel them. Alcohol did that to her. “I am. I could use some water.”
He stood up, retied his towel, and walked into the kitchen. Now she was looking.
Erin heard ice clinking into a glass followed by a stream of water. He brought her the glass and, as she reached for it, sat down next to her. She downed it in several large gulps. He watched as her throat jiggled. She lifted the glass to her forehead and closed her eyes.
“It’s so hot here. It feels like summer already.”
Smiling, Spence took the glass from her.
“Why don’t you lie down and relax. You got a little burned out there. You may have sun stroke.”
“Really? Is that serious?”
“Can be. Some people die from it. You’re probably just dehydrated.”
Erin’s head swam. She closed her eyes and sank into the cool, white sofa. Spence stood up and, after placing a pillow under her head, went into his bedroom to dress.
* * *
Hours later, Erin woke up. For a moment she felt lost. She blinked to clear her vision then sat up and straightened her clothes. She heard music in the distance and followed it down the hallway. She found him in his studio, standing at one of his canvasses.
He frowned as he concentrated, then glanced back and forth from the painting to several photographs he had clipped to the corner. A tackle box filled with paint tubes sat on a tall table next to his hip. He had pulled out the tackle box tray and was using it as a palette. The table top also served as a palette with layers of dried oil paint stacked one on top of another like an artistic archaeological dig. He had a brush behind one ear and was chewing on another. He didn’t move for several minutes, studying the scene before him. He didn’t notice Erin, her footsteps muffled by the carpet.
He glanced first over his shoulder at the sun now sinking into the Pamlico Sound then back at his canvas before he spied her. She didn’t move.
“The light’s wrong now.” He put his brushes in a bottle of linseed oil and the tray on a table behind him, then sauntered towards her. “How ya feeling?”
“Fine. I think I should find a hotel on the island and freshen up.”
“Thought you were going to stay here?”
Erin backed up as he came towards the door. “I think you and I need a bit of privacy and maybe a fresh start.” Even as the words came out, she realized they did not sound convincing.
“Nah, no worries. I’ve already put your suitcase in your room. It’s at the end of the hall,” he said, taking her arm and escorting her to the opposite side of the house. He opened a door and Erin was dazzled by the view from the large windows. The room seemed to float in light as the mirrored closets on the far wall reflected the blues and browns of the wetlands. Centered in the middle of the room was a king-sized bed covered with a champagne silk spread. Minimally decorated, there was no other furniture in the room other than mahogany floating shelves attached to the walls. He moved to one of the mirrored doors and opened it.
“See? Your own bathroom.” He emphasized the word “own” and his smile was overly bright.
Erin cringed. She was embarrassed but it was the memory of his wet, tanned, muscled body that flushed her cheek, not his gentle teasing.
“I unpacked for you,” he added, stepping towards the built-in dresser and opening the top drawer. He pulled out a lacy bra and swung it around his index finger.
She gasped. He had retrieved her suitcase out of the SUV while she slept and put her clothes away? She blushed furiously. He dropped her bra, closed the drawer and changed the subject.
“Hungry?”
“Yes,” she replied, disarmed by the simple question.
“I don’t have much in the way of vittles here so we’ll go out. I suppose you’ll want to take a shower? You might want to lock the door. You know, to keep out intruders.”
He stifled a laugh, backed out of her room, and closed the door.
Functioning on auto pilot, Erin stepped into the bathroom. It was exactly like the one she had barged into earlier, except this room had her toiletries on the counter, her shampoo and conditioner in the shower. She opened the mirrored medicine cabinet and found her toothbrush, her floss and even her birth control pills.
She stepped out of the bathroom and into the closet area. Pulling open drawers she found her lingerie, her stockings, shorts and shirts. Her dresses hung on satin-padded hangers. He had left out her red La Rok, a short-waisted cocktail dress with a cut-away back and short tulle skirt. He had even arranged her silver Stuart Weitzmore slingback sandals, with their corsage straps and four-inch heel, beside the dress. So, he had even decided what she should wear tonight.
Erin sat on the bed and fumed at the invasion of her privacy. She thought about calling Patricia. Instead, she went back into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
“It’s on,” she growled.
Soon Erin was sleek and polished. The skirt of her strapless red dress flared high above her knees in baby-doll fashion. Her high heels made her legs appear long. They were a bit sunburned from her morning on the deck so she decided not to wear stockings. Instead, she slathered them with fragrant lotion. She used makeup sparingly, but the dress called for a bit of war paint.
The casual, tomboy approach hadn’t worked. Sharing a few beers on the deck had been a bad idea. Maybe the glamour puss would succeed.
She stepped into the living room, her small silver evening bag in her hand. Spence, sitting in an armchair and toying with the TV remote, whistled.
“I didn’t think you’d wear it,” he said, referring to her dress.
“Why not? That’s why I brought it.”
“You clean up nice.”
She sashayed into the center of the room and batted her lashes. “Thank you. Wish I could say the same.”
It was another lie. Spence was dressed in a pair of tan, baggy pants, a black silk shirt and leather sandals. His wavy dark hair was pushed back and he hadn’t bothered to shave. He looked reckless and sexy.
He placed his hand over his heart and tossed his head back, laughing. “Now that’s just unkind.”
He walked towards Erin. “What can I do to improve your opinion of me?”
“Obey me. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”
Spence bowed. “As you wish.”
She smiled and turned towards what she hoped was the front door. They didn’t speak as they walked outside. Without a word, Spence whisked her into his arms and waded through the tall grass towards her SUV.
Erin gasped at the touch of his warm hand cupping her bare legs while the other snaked around her back and curved under her arm. His fingertips brushed the side of her breast.
“Hey! Put me down.”
“Quit complaining,” Spence said. “You’d never make it through the field in those shoes.”
Erin flinched as his warm breath caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and held her purse tight.
Seconds later, Spence set her on her feet at the passenger door and held out his hand. Erin shrugged; he knew the town best, so she handed him the keys and he opened the door. He smiled as she maneuvered into the high vehicle, then obligingly tucked her short skirt under her thigh and closed the door. He climbed behind the wheel, started the truck and wound his way back towards town.
A few minutes later, Spence pulled into the shell-packed parking lot of a local restaurant. “You like seafood?”
“No,” she said sniffing at the tantalizing aroma of gril
ling meat. “But I do like steak.”
She didn’t wait for him to open her door. Instead, she slid down carefully, placing one high heel on the running board while the other floated inches from the ground.
“You need help?” Spence asked, keeping his eyes on her thighs as her dress rode high.
“No thank you; I’m fine,” she said as she dropped, groping for the door handle.
“Yes you are,” he agreed softly.
Chapter Three
“You know, that is just fascinating,” he said, pouring her another glass of wine.
She monopolized the conversation with her detailed explanation of book outlines and the importance of schedules.
“Really? You think so?”
“No. I’m just saying that so you’ll drink more.”
Erin steeled herself against his smile, his soft voice and the spreading warmth of the red wine. She had long since finished her steak and salad, and had progressed to slathering butter on thick slices of brown bread.
Meanwhile, Spence continued to crack open crab legs, mounding the pink and white meat on his plate. He had several small containers of drawn butter in front of him. He ate slowly, spearing the crab meat with a tiny fork then dipping it in the yellow liquid. Erin could swear he’d been eating for an hour.
“Can’t you eat any faster?”
“You can help, you know,” he said, offering her a crab leg and the pliers.
“Ewww. No.”
“Why don’t you like seafood?” he asked, sucking on a cracked leg.
“It all tastes the same to me. Gross.”
“You should try this; it’s not gross.” Spence offered her a forkful of white crabmeat dripping with butter.
“No. I don’t like it.” She shoved a piece of bread into her mouth. “Besides, I’m full.”
Spence eyed her puffed cheeks.
“Do you hear that?”
“What?” Erin listened for sirens. Life in the city had numbed her to loud noises.
“They’re playing our song, darlin’.”
He wiped his hands on his napkin, stood and pulled her to her feet. He seemed to glide toward the empty terrace. He held her hand and put his free arm around her waist. They swayed in the dark.
“I don’t hear anything,” she said, pulling away and putting a hand on his chest.
“Listen,” he whispered. He pulled her close and danced. Below, in the restaurant’s kitchen, a radio played a reggae tune.
She stepped out of his embrace and put her hands on her hips. “You realize this is not a date.”
“Of course.” Time to change the subject. Spence leaned over the rail and nodded toward the boats moored in Silver Lake Harbor. “Over there is Anchorage Marina. That’s where my mom runs the dive shop. That’s where I keep my boats.”
“Boats? You have more than one?”
“I’ve got a few. You’ll like them.”
“I’m sure I will,” Erin said. “I’ve seen photographs of them. Fancy yachts filled with beautiful women.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t call them yachts. I’ve got a sport fisher and a sailboat. I’ve also got a john boat and a small Boston whaler. They’re not fancy. They’re work boats.”
“Work boats?”
“Sure. I do a lot of exploring when I’m considering which scenes to paint. I work from photographs I take in the wild.”
“Right. What about all of the beautiful women?”
“All women are beautiful to me, darling.”
“Mm hmm.”
Spence studied Erin’s face, as if memorizing her green eyes, sooty lashes, and honey blonde hair streaked with highlights. Soft, full lips crowned a dimpled chin. She valiantly tried to hide a smirk and it dimpled her cheek. But it was the determined look that narrowed her eyes, the stubborn tilt of her chin that he found most attractive.
“I’d say you’re just about the most beautiful woman I’ve met,” he said, seductively stretching out his hand to caress her lovely cheek.
She wasn’t buying it. She snorted and arched away from his questing finger tips. “Hah! You’re full of it.”
* * *
After dinner, they walked to the beach. Erin’s tiny purse was tucked into Spence’s back pocket, and he carried her shoes by their straps. Even in the moonlight she could spot shells and she was gathering them by the handfuls, collecting them in her skirt.
“Tomorrow you’ll just toss those out.”
“No I won’t. They’re beautiful.”
“Happens all the time. People pick up seashells and then toss them away the next day because they’re not perfect. They start discriminating because one is chipped, or they find a prettier one.”
Erin shrugged at his logic and released the edges of her skirt. The shells tumbled to the beach.
“Tell me about your sailboat,” she commanded.
“It’s a 50-foot catamaran. It’s got a saloon, a full galley, a master suite and two double berths, each with their own heads. Sorry; I know you like to use my bathroom.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “Let it go ….” she warned.
“The cockpit is large and it has a huge dive platform on the back. Do you dive?”
“No, never. I’m a freshwater girl. I grew up near a big lake in Pennsylvania.”
“Oh yeah? Where about?”
“Eaton. It’s a small town in the mountains, hours from anywhere.”
“Your family still live there?”
“Yes. My sister and her husband. My parents are retired.”
“Just you and your sister?”
“That’s right, just us. I barely know my cousins. My parents seldom left the farm to visit family. We had livestock that needed constant care, so instead of vacations we kept a cabin down by the lake.”
“You a farm girl?”
“Used to be. I’m a city girl now. I have an apartment in Dupont Circle. Have you been to D.C.?”
“Sure. A few times. I like the way they’ve improved the waterfront there. They have a nice boardwalk and a few good patio bars.”
“Boats and bars. Why am I not surprised?”
Spence smiled and took one of her free hands, carelessly wiping the sand on his shirt before clasping it in his. Erin tugged but he held fast. They walked back along the shore to the parking lot, retrieved the SUV and drove back to Spence’s house.
He turned at the battered black mailbox, onto the unpaved road that Erin almost missed earlier in the day.
“What’s the deal with the trashy mailbox?” she asked.
“It helps keep the riffraff out, along with the models from all the photo shoots.”
“Very funny. I bet every one of them ended up ... at your house.” She almost said, “in your bed.”
Spence just smiled, drove down a private driveway, and parked the SUV beside the house.
“How did I miss this?” Erin basically abandoned the vehicle on the side of the road that afternoon.
“You were supposed to. That’s how I designed the property.”
At the front door, he lifted a discreet panel and pushed a few buttons. The door opened, low lights turned on and soft music began to play.
“Wow, Double-Oh-Seven, you’ve got quite a place.”
He smirked and stood aside, letting her enter first.
“My feet are sandy,” she warned. Spence shrugged.
She dropped her shoes by the front door along with her small purse and walked into the living room.
“Well. Thanks for an exciting first day, Spence. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She began walking towards her room but he caught her wrist.
“You really shouldn’t go to bed yet. You should drink some water. Don’t want to wake up with a hangover.”
He maneuvered her into the kitchen and pulled a couple bottles of cold spring water from the refrigerator. Then, he opened the sliding glass doors to the patio and ushered her into the night air.
“Let’s watch the stars,” he suggested. He reclined in his hammock and p
atted the netting next to him. Once again Erin sought alternative seating. Her choices were the bar or the deck or the hammock.
“Okay. Move over.”
They rocked quietly for several minutes gazing at the stars. She tried not to focus on his arm and leg, warm against her. She slowly relaxed, but still felt a little chilled from her sunburn. When she shivered, Spence asked, “You cold?” He lifted his arm and she rolled into the curve against him.
“A little.” Erin allowed herself to huddle closer, absorbing his body heat and inhaling his clean, fresh scent. Her arms and legs felt heavy. It was too easy to close her eyes and sigh.
“I used to lie in the hammock with my daddy when I was a child. Down at the cabin near our house. We spent a lot of our summers out there at the lake.” She yawned.
After a few minutes of quiet rocking, Erin was asleep.
Chapter Four
“Wake up, sleepy head.”
Erin opened her eyes to a dusky blue dawn. She tried to sit up but the sudden movement rocked the hammock and it started to flip over.
“Whoa.” Spence put anchoring foot on the deck and caught her about the waist before she could tumble out.
“Did we sleep out here?” Erin’s dress bunched around her waist and sand still clung to the skirt. Thank goodness, she thought, her top was still in place.
“I’m a mess.” She ran her tongue over her teeth and smacked noisily. “I need my toothbrush.”
Spence smiled at her lack of pretension. Her hair was tousled, sticking up wildly.
“And you’ve got bed head,” he added.
“Well, you’re not so pretty yourself this morning.”
Actually, he was.
“I’m not supposed to be.”
“And I am? That’s a chauvinistic thing to say.”
“I didn’t say it.”
“You intimated it. Never mind, I’ve got to pee.”
“Want me to come along?”
“Thanks; I think I can handle this one alone.”
She stood up and gave the hammock a shove. Her fingers still wrapped in the webbing, she jerked it back and tumbled Spence onto the deck.
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