Hideaway Cove (A Windfall Island Novel) (11 page)

Hold shouldn’t have felt relieved, but he did. He should have felt guilty, and he did that, too. And worried, because he’d backed himself into a corner, right and tight. And yet, having finally made progress in opening her up to the possibility they could be more than friends, the last thing he wanted was to drop his family’s wealth on her.

She would cut him out of her life faster than a Louisiana cotton gin picked a field clean. Or she wouldn’t, and that would be worse. He ought to trust her, he knew that. But he’d trusted before, he’d loved before.

He’d opened his heart to a woman, offered to share his life with her. For his reward, that heart had been shattered, that life turned into a thing to be bartered; the semblance of love in return for the ease and the trinkets money could buy. He knew what that had made Miriam. And he knew what it made him.

He wouldn’t be a fool again, and yeah, he understood he was letting the past drive him. Twist him, if he was being completely truthful. But the past, Windfall Island’s past, had also brought him to Jessica Randal, and she would take or leave the man she saw before her, the simple genealogist.

And if, a tiny little voice whispered, she learned the truth? He’d just have to find a way to stop that from happening, until he was ready to tell her himself.

T
he following Saturday found Jessi at home, settled in at her small dining table with Maggie, going over paperwork they hadn’t gotten to during the week. Maggie had been in the air more often as her charter business picked up, which meant Jessi could drag her into paperwork on a Saturday without admitting that part of the delinquency belonged squarely on her own shoulders.

It wasn’t so much admitting she’d fallen down on the job as facing the why of it. Or rather the whom. Ever since her conversation with Hold Abbot the previous Monday—a conversation where she’d all but given him the green light—it had been hard to focus.

In Hold’s defense, he’d been nothing but a gentleman.

That had only made it worse.

She’d been on pins and needles all week, waiting for him to make some kind of move. She’d opened the door, hadn’t she? So why, she wondered, hadn’t he walked through it? He’d been polite, sure, but he’d kept to himself most of the week, never once parking himself at her desk like he was apt to do before, never leaning close to talk to her. And making her want him all the more.

It was annoying, confusing. And made her think about him constantly, which, she assumed, was exactly what he wanted. And why she deliberately put him out of her mind. Again.

October had passed into November, bringing snow, sleet, and sub-zero temperatures. As usual, the weather hadn’t been conducive to trick-or-treating, so the Windfallers had gathered at the Horizon, made Halloween as much fun as possible for the youngsters without the door-to-door element. Although Hold had made an appearance, spent time admiring Benji’s Spiderman costume, he’d kept his distance from her.

Lance had been there, of course, and Benji came away with enough candy to keep him on a sugar high the rest of the winter. But Jessi had missed Hold, missed his slow, smooth voice, the way he smiled and set her stomach to fluttering, and how that fluttering deepened, spread when she let her eyes wander, her body imagine how the long, strong lines of him would feel against her.

“What was that sigh for?” Maggie said, both her tone and her grin bordering on smug.

Jessi tapped on the paper she’d slid under Maggie’s nose, an order for the December fuel.

“You know, I can sign my name and talk at the same time,” Maggie observed. “I’m multi-talented that way.”

“I can do paperwork and ignore you at the same time.”

“Touché. So the question is, why don’t you want to talk about Hold?”

Jessi slid the paper away from Maggie, pushed over a stack of checks. And sighed again. “Because I’m not sure how I feel about him.”

“This is me you’re talking to,” Maggie pointed out.

And nobody knew her better, Jessi admitted.

“I noticed he stayed away from you this week. So maybe it’s not your feelings you’re confused about.” Maggie signed the first check, scowled over the second. “How the hell do we stay in business when so much goes out the door?”

“Because, as I tell you every month, more comes in. It’s called profit, and it allows you to keep defying gravity and me to fend off starvation.”

“You should get a raise,” Maggie said immediately.

“C’mon, Mags, you know I’m kidding. Focus.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, signing the next check in the stack. “But you do deserve a raise, and since you won’t take one, the least you can do for yourself is have a fling. I know a friendly, attractive man who is free tonight.”

“What did you do?” Jessi demanded over the warning bells going off in her head.

“Not a thing,” Maggie said. “It just seems like fate to me. Hold’s not busy, and you’re not busy. And before you say it, Benji can spend the night with me.”

“I have all this paperwork.”

“Do it on Monday.”

Jessi shook her head. “I have Monday’s work to do on Monday. Things have piled up, what with the time I’ve taken off. And,” she added on a rush, “I’ve been a little unfocused lately. Lance coming back.”

“Not to mention Hold being a few feet away all the time.”

“A good friend would have overlooked that part.”

“A good friend would want you to face it, Jess. A good friend would ask why you’re ignoring what you feel for him.”

“I’m afraid, all right?” She covered her face for a second, then shoved her hands back through her hair. The pain of her fingers snagging in the wild curls helped her bear down and face reality. “I don’t want to get attached to someone who’s going to leave, and I sure don’t want Benji getting attached to him.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Maggie said, but with a note of sympathy in her voice. “The kid lights up when Hold is around.”

“Yeah,” Jessi said, but refused to sigh again. “Hold is so good with him.”

“Hold treats him like a person, like his opinion counts. Unlike Lance.”

“Maggie.”

“The whole town saw how Lance ignored him in the Horizon last Saturday.”

“Lance didn’t ignore Benji on purpose,” Jessi pointed out crankily. “And if the whole town was worried about my son, they could have left them alone instead of interrupting Lance every five minutes to score the latest gossip.”

Maggie smiled indulgently. “You might as well expect the wind to stop blowing as think any Windfaller would ignore—”

They heard the tromp of feet on stairs. Maggie swallowed the rest of what she’d been about to say, which certainly would have been about Lance. Both of them bent to paperwork, looking up when Benji came over to stand by the table, favoring Maggie with a listless, “H’lo.”

“What’s got you looking so gloomy?” Maggie asked him.

“I’m bored.”

And out of sorts, Jessi thought. How could she not see the upheaval in her son when she lived with it every day herself? The trouble was, she didn’t know how to set his mind at rest. Benji had two men in his life now, a father who would surely leave again, and a man who’d befriended him, and who would surely leave. And she could do nothing to spare him those blows when they came.

What she could do, what she was determined to do, was make sure he had a soft place to land.

Benji wandered to the wide window in the living area, propped his elbows on the sill and looked out at Hideaway Cove, or what he could see of it. A lumpy rain fell straight down, splatting on the ground with half-frozen plops, and graying out the world outside. The leaden sky seemed to hang just over the roofs of the houses. Even the rocks and trees along the bluff were shades of black and gray.

Although she loved the cove and all its moods, looking out made Jessi feel as dreary as the day, and dreading the long winter coming to sock them in on the island and trap them in their houses. Then again, maybe feeling trapped had nothing to do with Mother Nature.

The search for Eugenia had come to a nearly complete standstill. Moving forward meant putting someone in danger, but if they didn’t move forward, the mystery might never be solved. Lance, and his effect on Benji, was a constant worry. And then—

“Hold’s here.” Benji ran to the door, but he stopped with his hand on the knob, looking to his mother.

“Of course he is,” Jessi muttered, even as her heart jumped.

“Sounds like just what you need,” Maggie said.

“I don’t know what I need.”

“I do, and Hold Abbot is just the man to give it to you.”

“C’mon, Mom, answer the door,” Benji said, because he wasn’t allowed to anymore—just one of the ways his life had changed since Lance Proctor had come back to Windfall Island.

“I’ll get it,” Maggie said, and was across the room before Jessi could stop her.

Not that she would have stopped Maggie; it wouldn’t be polite to leave Hold on the doorstep, especially in such nasty weather. He stepped inside, wearing a buff-colored, knee-length topcoat that looked really expensive, and Italian leather shoes that were definitely expensive, both completely impractical for the weather on Windfall Island.

He shook water off himself like a dog coming out of the surf, and made Benji shriek with laughter.

Jessi stayed in her seat. She’d have liked a couple minutes to…
what
, she asked herself as their eyes met and her heart leapt again, beating so hard in her ears she barely heard him say “hi” to Maggie, then drop down to Benji’s level to greet him.

Then his eyes lifted to hers again, held, and God help her, she couldn’t look away—not until Maggie said, “Hey, Benj, how about you and I go run some errands,” and she realized Maggie intended to leave her alone with Hold Abbot and her own wavering resistance.

“Maggie—”

“In fact,” Maggie said, grinning unrepentantly at Jessi while she spoke to Benji, “how about a sleepover? Dex is still gone, and I don’t have anybody to keep me company out there in that big house. It’ll be great to have a man around.”

When Benji turned those big, pleading eyes on her and said, “Can I, Mom?” Jessi knew she was sunk.

“I don’t know…” she tried anyway, her eyes straying back to Hold.

He bumped up one eyebrow, and she knew what he was thinking. And okay, maybe she was using Benji as a buffer…

“
Mom
.”

…and that wasn’t fair to him. Besides, she could resist Hold Abbot, right?

“Sure,” she said. “Go pack. And make sure you put pajamas and clean underwear in there. And your toothbrush—”

“Mom,” Benji said, with embarrassment instead of impatience this time, but he ran off, came back in no time flat with his Harry Potter backpack. Before she could check it, he pecked her on the cheek and Maggie whisked him out the door.

“I’d be insulted,” Hold said, “if the boy didn’t have the good sense to take a better offer when he got one. And if I hadn’t come here to see you anyway.”

He crossed the room and sat in the chair Maggie had vacated. “We kind of danced around each other all week.”

“Did we?” Jessi asked. “I mean, I was right there, every day. You barely looked at me.”

“Jesus, Jessica.” He jerked to his feet, scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “How much do you think I can take? You were right there, every day, close enough to…and I couldn’t…If I’d so much as made eye contact with you—”

Jessi rose, one fluid motion as she laid her body against his and took his mouth. Hold went absolutely still. She could swear his heart even stopped beating. Hers definitely did, then lurched back to life almost painfully, battering against her ribcage, pumping heat and hunger through her veins, and so much desire she didn’t know what to do with it all. So she stepped back. And surprised him again.

“Hold—”

“Don’t, Jessica. I know it’s been a long time and it feels like this is happening fast, but please, God, don’t step back from me now.”

“But—”

“Shhhh.” He kissed her again, long and deep, tongues tangling. He tasted dark and heady; his hands on her face were strong and steady. Desire caught her by the throat again, spread through her again, twisted her in knots. And scared the hell out of her.

It hadn’t been like this with Lance. That need had been softer, sweeter, not this…this deep and overwhelming sharpness that sliced through her self-control like it was so many soap bubbles.

She hadn’t understood what she was getting into then. She did now. Her gaze lifted to Hold’s, and she could see him holding back, giving her room as she understood now he’d given her room all week. The choice rested on her shoulders, she realized. She could let the fear guide her, or…

Really, she told herself as she stepped up to him again, there was no choice.

She laid her hands on his shoulders, lifted to her toes, and kissed him, on the neck this time. Her breath caught—the scent of him, the tang of his skin, and the roughness of it against her lips sent desire soaring. When he touched her she was lost. So she simply put herself into his hands.

His hands were gentle at first, but when she slipped hers under his sweater his touch turned a little rough, more than a little rushed, moving over her with an urgency that echoed hers. She liked it, liked his hands on her, and thrilled when she felt him tremble.

It meant he felt everything she felt. It meant she could let go, of thought, of emotion, of worrying about the after. She could concentrate on the now, on the feel of those hands rushing over her, of that mouth hot on her skin, of that long, lean body that was hers for the taking.

Take she did, fisting her hands in his hair, fusing her mouth to his and feasting on him. She nipped and nibbled, ran her hands up into his hair then let them roam down over his shoulders, over the strong muscles of his back, to cup his backside and press him, rock hard, against her.

“My God, Jessica,” Hold said against her mouth.

She could feel him shudder, knew he still held back. “Let go, Hold,” she whispered against his mouth. “I won’t break.”

“You sure, sugar?”

She stepped back, only far enough to peel out of her hoodie and hand it to him. “I want your hands on me,” she said as he took it then dropped it, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t want you to worry about hurting me.” She pulled her long-sleeved t-shirt off next, not caring that she wore an old, comfortable bra beneath. “I’m not going to worry about hurting you.” She slipped the straps off, slowly, smiling when his eyes dropped, finally, from hers.

He swallowed audibly—then groaned when her hands moved to the snap of her jeans instead.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“There’ve been moments when I’ve considered it,” she said with a smile, “but this definitely is not one of them.” She took his hand in hers and tugged him toward the stairs. “I’ve waited a long time, Hold, waited and dreamed, and none of those fantasies included the couch or the floor.”

He stopped her at the foot of the stairs, tipped her chin up until their gazes met. “Fantasies?”

“Years’ worth. I hope you’ve had your Wheaties.”

“Will oatmeal work?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Jessi said, ending with a little shriek when he swept her up in his arms and raced up the stairs and into the room she barely had time to point out.

“I’m impressed,” she said, taking a moment to steady herself after he dropped her feet to the floor. Who’d have known being carried away by a big, strong man would make her head spin? “Those stairs are pretty narrow and steep, and you didn’t bang my head against the wall once.”