Lead Me On (13 page)

She almost forgot to breathe as he lowered his mouth to hers. Desire flowed through her, hot and sweet, as he took her glass away, freeing her hands. She twined her arms about his neck, sliding down with him onto the cushion.

"Oh yeah ..." He kissed her cheek, her neck, sending

shivers down her spine. "We definitely need to rethink the one-night-only clause."

Her mind surfaced from the haze of pleasure long enough to realize what he was saying. And how badly she wanted it. Wanted many nights of making love with this man, of waking in his arms in the morning, of kissing him and touching him the way she was right now.

Her brother's words echoed in the back of her mind:
I'll bet money you're half in love with the guy already.

Panic streaked through the haze of pleasure.

"Wait." Pressing a hand to his chest, she pulled back to stare at him as fear replaced desire. "We can't do this."

"Oh, yes we can." His body moved over hers, so virile and male.

"No, really." Her mind raced for a convincing reason to stick with their agreement. "How do you know being with me cured your writer's block?"

"What else could it be?" He nibbled at her lips, making her heart race.

"It could be Chloe's running away."

"What?" He pulled back, his confusion comical.

"Think about it." She wiggled backward to get some space between their bodies, hoping her heart would stop pounding. "You told me you started writing to escape the stress of real life. Well, having your niece run away is pretty stressful, right?"

"Oh man." He sat up. "I hope you're not right."

"What does it matter, as long as you're able to write?"

"Because if I had to pick between making love to you to get my muse back, or calling my sister so she can dump a boatload of stress in my lap, which do you think I'd choose?"

She gave him an apologetic look. "Well, I guess it could be one other thing. Maybe it's Marguerite's magic."

A chill traced down Scott's spine as if someone

standing directly behind him had touched the back of his neck with a cold finger. He jerked around, but saw nothing between the settee and window. Outside, full night had fallen, with only flickers of lightning to break the blackness.

"What is it?" Allison asked, looking toward the rain-splattered windows, then back at him.

"Nothing. I just ..." He shivered to shake off the feeling. "That was weird."

She studied him with knowing eyes. "I've never told anyone this, but sometimes I think I feel Marguerite's presence in this room. I can almost picture her standing here at the window, staring out at the cove as if waiting for Jack to come to her."

He wanted to scoff at such a claim but remembered why he'd come back to Pearl Island. It wasn't just to follow Hugh's advice. He'd come to be near Marguerite. His writer's block had gone from worrisome to total panic the day he'd learned his father had lost the house. When Diane had told him, he'd realized the block had started about the time John had put the house up as collateral. Coincidence? Probably. But the mere possibility that it wasn't coincidence, that his success as a writer hadn't been due to talent and hard work, but due to some old voodoo magic and a ghost trapped inside an old house, had rocked his confidence to the core.

"If you're right, I have another problem."

"What's that?" she asked.

"What if I have to come stay here every time I have trouble with my writing?"

"Would that be so bad?" She smiled.

If it meant keeping his hands off Allison every minute of every day, it would be like living in hell. While riding on the beach, the idea of lengthening their relationship to something like what he'd had with Kelly had danced around in the back of his mind. Galveston and New Orleans were fairly close, how hard would it be for them to get together a few times a year?

Then she'd mentioned the old feud between their families, which he'd assumed had died out generations ago, and he realized she hated the very blood that ran through his veins. If she found out he'd changed his name to Lawrence when he'd left home at eighteen, that he'd been born Scott LeRoche, she'd probably kick him out of the inn, and out of her life.

And if he touched her again knowing that, he'd deserve all the anger she cared to toss his way.

He heaved a sigh. "You realize this conjecture is all premature."

"How so?"

"I haven't exactly come up with a decent idea for my next book. All I had was one moment of mediocre creativity."

"It'll come back to you, though." Total confidence shone in her eyes. "I'm sure of it."

"God, I hope so. Because you have no idea how close I am to watching my career vanish. I'm contracted for a book that's due out in October, and I haven't even started it."

"You're kidding." The confidence turned to surprise. "Can you write that fast?"

"When I have an idea, I can finish a book in eight weeks, if I have to. I prefer three to four months, but when I'm under the gun, I can do it in less. The problem is, I don't have an idea that has a chance of getting past my editor. She shot down every proposal I sent her back when I was able to still write proposals."

"What happens if you don't come up with an idea?"

"I have to give back the portion of the advance they paid me when I signed the contract. Which would sever my relationship with my current publisher and put a big black mark next to my name. I'd have to find a new publisher willing to take a chance that it wouldn't happen again, and to do that, I'd need an idea. Which puts me right back to square one."

"It'll work out, though. Look at how many wonderful books you've written. In fact, I bet all those ideas your editor rejected would have been fine. She just didn't trust you."

"You're right. She didn't. And she drives me nuts. She used to be my old editor's assistant, so when Lisa retired, they made Penny my editor. When she was an assistant, we worked together fine. But now that she's reached full editor status, she questions everything." He rubbed his forehead. "It's like trying to write by committee."

"Maybe she's just nervous. You should tell her to trust you."

"I've tried telling her that. And my agent's tried telling her that." He looked at the woman sitting beside him with absolute faith in her eyes. "Maybe I should have you call her."

"Well, maybe I just will," she said in that prim voice of hers that always made him want to kiss her.

How in the world would he manage to stay at the inn for a whole month without getting his hands on her body one more time?

Scott woke with a jolt to find the dark shadow of a man bending over him. He pressed back, ready to come up fighting.

"Whoa!" The figure straightened with hands held up. "I'm just waking my sister."

As his head cleared of sleep, he recognized Allison's brother in the faint glow of dawn coming through the windows. He looked about, disoriented. The last thing he remembered was sitting on the settee listening to the sleepy murmur of Allison's voice as she tried to distract him from worrying. They must have fallen asleep. She stirred on the narrow cushion, her back moving against his front. His body responded to the accidental caress, and he tightened his arm about her to hold her still.

"You know, our guests usually sleep in their rooms," Adrian told him.

"I was waiting for a call." Scott glanced toward the phone. It remained as silent as it had all night.

"Adrian?" Allison mumbled, and Sadie's tail thumped against the floor.

"Yeah, it's me." The brother's voice softened with affection. "Time for work, kiddo."

"Too early," she groused and snuggled closer to Scott.

Adrian's eyes narrowed at Scott before he looked back at his sister. "Actually, you've overslept. It's six o'clock."

"Six o'clock!" She tried to sit and elbowed Scott in the gut. "Why'd you let me sleep so late?" Pushing her hair off her forehead, she glanced around. Her eyes widened with surprise when she realized she was in the parlor. "Oh." She turned and stared at Scott, and he wondered if she could feel the erection pressing against her bottom. Although how could she not?

"Hi." He managed a lopsided smile.

"Hi." She blushed.

Glaring at Scott, Adrian gathered the empty wine bottle and glasses from the coffee table. "I'd tell you two to take your time, but the other guests will start coming down for breakfast soon. Sadie, you come with me."

Sadie scrambled up to follow Adrian out the door.

"I guess we fell asleep," she said as they both sat and straightened their clothes.

"Guess so."

"Chloe never called?"

"Not yet."

She glanced around, looking a bit disoriented. "Do you want any coffee?"

"I'd kill for a cup of coffee," he said, longing for a shower as well.

"Adrian's probably already put some out upstairs."

"I'll be sure and check it for arsenic before I drink any." Standing, he stretched his back, then cringed when his muscles announced their opinion of the sleeping arrangements. "Oh man, if you're thinking about renting the sofa to guests, I wouldn't."

"It's not something we normally do." A smile teased the corners of her mouth.

He held out a hand and helped her stand. "Thanks for sitting up with me last night."

She nodded. "If you want to take a shower and get some rest, I'll listen for the phone."

"Shower, yes, but I don't think I could go back to sleep. I'll wait in my room, though, so the other guests don't wonder who the crazy guy is sitting in the parlor staring at the phone."

Understanding softened her face. "I promise to get you the moment your sister or Chloe calls."

"Thanks." He cupped her cheek, wanting to kiss her so badly, he could almost taste her mouth. He pressed his lips to her forehead instead.

~ ~ ~

Lack of sleep pulled at Alli throughout the morning, making her mind and body sluggish. By noon, she was stifling yawns as she waited on guests in the gift shop. From outside came the sound of car doors slamming. She glanced out the window to find a young woman with shoulder-length dark hair standing beside a taxi. The smashing red pantsuit showed off a figure that would make men drool and women green with envy. Big sunglasses hid the upper part of the face while bright red lipstick accentuated the pouty lips. The woman studied the house while the driver unloaded a full set of Gucci luggage.

Alli frowned in confusion as the woman headed toward the veranda wobbling slightly as she navigated the oyster-shell path in high-heeled red leather sandals. The only guests they were expecting were a couple from Iowa who had said they'd be in late, so who could this be?

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" she said to the guests in the gift shop and stepped into the hall just as the woman entered. "Welcome to Pearl Island. May I help you?"

"Oh, hello." The woman pushed the sunglasses to the top of her head, revealing large brown eyes and a heavy application of makeup. In contrast to the rest of her appearance, the nails were ragged and free of polish. "I'm looking for Scott Lawrence. Is he in?"

"Yes, he is." Alli's frown vanished as she wondered if this was his sister with news about Chloe. But why would she come in person rather than call? "May I tell him who's here?"

"Please do." The woman turned to the driver as he lumbered in with his heavy burden of luggage. She waved a hand. "Right there will be fine."

The man stacked the suitcases as the woman opened her tiny purse, carefully counting out the enormous fare the driver named.

Alli watched the exchange with growing impatience, a thousand questions flying through her head. Finally the driver left and the woman turned back. Before she could speak, though, the sound of someone running down the stairs made them both turn.

Scott stopped on the bottom step, staring in disbelief. "Chloe?"

Chloe?
Alli turned back in time to see the woman raise a hand and wiggle her fingers.

"Hey, Uncle Scott. Surprise."

"Oh, thank God!" He rushed forward, past Alli, to sweep his niece into his arms. His embrace lifted her off the floor as he buried his face in her hair.

"Not so tight!" the woman/girl squeaked. "I can't breathe."

He released her abruptly and held her at arm's length. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" he bellowed. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"So you knew I was coming, huh?" The cultured voice had vanished.

"Your mother is hysterical—"

"Gimme a break. Mom's always hysterical—"

"We've called the police. And—" He looked down at her clothes. "What are you wearing?"

"I borrowed some of Mom's clothes. Do you know how hard it would have been to buy a plane ticket if they'd known I was a kid?"

"You
flew
here?"

"What'd'ya think, I'd take a bus? Pu-leez." The girl rolled her eyes. "I borrowed Mom's driver's license and a few credit cards, and booked a flight to Houston."

"Why didn't you call when you got there so I could come get you?"

"It was the middle of the night and I didn't want to wake you. So I got a hotel, grabbed some sleep, then called a cab."

"You think I actually slept last night!" he demanded, then recovered enough to remember where he was. A quick glance confirmed they had an audience; not just Allison, but two guests stood in the doorway to the gift shop watching with wide eyes. "Come on." He grabbed Chloe by the wrist and headed for the stairs, his heart pounding with every step.

"Uncle Scott, slow down. I'm gonna break both my ankles in these stupid shoes."

"Good! Then you'll have a matched set, your ankles and your neck since that's the first thing I'm going to break. Right after I spank you."

"What?"
She stumbled up the stairs, losing a shoe on the landing.

When he reached his room, he dragged her inside and slammed the door with enough force to shake the walls.

"Uncle Scott, I—"

"Shut up!" He held up a hand, struggling to rein in his temper. "Don't say one word."

Her face blanched beneath, the heavy layer of makeup, but she closed her mouth.

Stalking to the bathroom, he wet a washcloth, then returned and tossed it at her. "Wash that gunk off your face. You look like a prostitute."

She lifted her chin. "I'm not wearing any more makeup than Mom wears."

"Is that what you want? To be like your mom?"

"Of course not."

"Then stop acting like her."

"I'm not!" Chloe's eyes filled with hurt. "I only dressed this way so I could travel without people knowing I was a kid."

"I'm not just talking about the clothes." He ran his hands through his hair and realized they were trembling. "I'm talking about this stunt you pulled. Running away, leaving a note specifically worded to hurt Diane, not calling me even though Hugh gave you the number, then showing up here looking all proud of yourself like I should be happy to see you. Right down the line, everything you've done is exactly like one of the dramatic things your mother does to make herself the center of attention. Well, Chloe, you got my attention, because I have never been angrier or more disappointed in you in my life!"

"I'm sorry." She blinked as tears welled along her lashes. "It's just that everything's been so awful lately. I'm tired of being in the way, of knowing Mom doesn't want me around. That she doesn't ... love me."

"Stop it!" He held up a finger when the tears started to spill down her cheeks. "Don't think you can get off the hook by crying. And don't you ever,
ever
say your mother doesn't love you, because you know that's not true."

"It is true!" Chloe wailed. "She's so wrapped up in herself, she barely knows I'm alive."

"Good God, you really are turning into my sister, blaming all your problems on your mother, on being neglected, on everyone and everything but yourself."

"Don't say that!" Chloe wiped her cheeks with the washcloth. "You don't know what it's been like. I can't go back there. Please, Uncle Scott. Don't make me go home.
I'd rather die!
"

"Jesus." He turned away. "I can't deal with this right now. We'll finish this later." He headed for the door, needing to get away until he could think straight.

"Uncle Scott! Please! Don't make me go home.
Please!
"

He slammed the door on her anguished pleas and stormed down the stairs. Allison was on the landing, holding Chloe's shoe to her chest, her eyes huge with shock. He went right past her and out the front door of the inn.

Allison watched him go, not sure what to do. Chloe's broken sobs finally drew her up the stairs, but the closer she got to the door, the more her stomach tightened with uncertainty. She stood for a while listening, every maternal instinct urging her to comfort the child on the other side of the door. But she didn't know this girl, and felt certain Chloe would yell at her to go away even if she offered a shoulder to cry on. But what if the girl didn't? What if she welcomed her comfort? The mere possibility made her palms sweat. Quickly setting the shoe by the door, she turned and fled downstairs.

Adrian, Rory, and Chance had all come into the hall and were standing around looking like witnesses to a car wreck. "What the hell was that about?" Adrian asked when he spotted her.

"Scott's niece," she answered.

"So I gathered. What'd he do, beat her?"

"No! Of course not." She saw the doubt on everyone's faces and her spine stiffened. Why was her family so quick to think the worst of Scott when they didn't even know him? "If you'll excuse me ..." She crossed to the front door, needing to find Scott to be sure he was all right.