Peppermint Creek Inn (18 page)

She let out a low sigh of relief. A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare. Or had it been a premonition?

Her heart suddenly picked up speed at the new thought. In a flash, she pushed aside the covers. On jittery legs, she threw on a robe and headed for the nearest window. Once there, she looked nervously into the front yard. The wood Tom had piled last night was still there, untouched. And thankfully he wasn’t chopping wood.

Whipping open the window, she took a few deep breaths of the cool, damp air and tried hard to slow the jittery uneasiness still clutching her insides. She stiffened when she detected movement in the burnt-out ruins of the inn.

Instantly she relaxed. It was Tom.

He disappeared behind one of the charred walls of the Peppermint Creek Inn, but not before she saw the set look of determination in his face.

The thought that she had an ally made hot tears spring to her eyes. She’d been virtually alone in her fight to find out who’d killed her husband. Her sister Jocelyn and her father-in-law had done all they could, but they’d come up empty-handed.

Subconsciously her gaze scanned the surroundings looking for any other movement, any strange shadows. Thankfully, she saw nothing else.

Shaking her head at being so foolish as to allow a nightmare to dampen her spirits, she headed for the bathroom. She’d decorated the tiny room in floral-printed wallpaper, with a beige background and miniature sweetheart pink and red roses sprinkled throughout the pattern. The floral design gave the tiny bathroom an airy yet dramatic look.

She found a damp pink towel hanging off the shower rod and her heart picked up speed. Obviously he’d already taken a shower. Grabbing the damp towel in her arms she inhaled the fresh fragrance of soap intermingling with Tom’s masculine scent.

The aroma made her think of Tom standing naked in the shower. Sparkling drops of water sliding over the large, bunched muscles in his arms and across his wide chest as he rubbed the perfume-scented soap into his strong muscular belly. His large fingers curling around the rigid length of his thick cock as he pulled back his foreskin and cleaned his mushroom-shaped cockhead. She felt a delicious hot feeling spiral throughout her body as she remembered taking his cock into her mouth last night.

It had been a wild impulse to take him orally. The instant she’d found him leaning over her when she’d awoken from the thunder and seen the lusty glow in his eyes, she been turned on so hot she would have done anything to have him making love to her.

While he’d restarted her fire, she’d watched his cute, plump ass cheeks cradled behind his underwear, and had the overwhelming urge to rip the cloth from his backside and just run her hands over those masculine curves.

Then she’d gotten a good look at the gorgeous bulge pressing against his underwear and a fierce lust heat had consumed her. She’d wanted to see his cock so badly she’d almost reached out and pulled his cock out herself. When she’d seen his thick, pulsing flesh, the web of veins pulsing through his engorged erection, the hard swollen testicles, she’d wanted to taste him.

And he’d tasted so wonderful as his silk-encased rod slid between her eager lips.

She knew how to suck cock. Had done it to Jack, but Jack was small compared to Tom.

Tom’s package was huge!

She blew out an aroused breath as she remembered how her lips had slid over his hot, pulsing shaft, how wonderful it had felt sliding into her throat. The taste of his semen had made her heady. The salty cream spurting into her mouth had turned her on as she’d envisioned Tom thrusting his cock deep into her quivering, drenched pussy.

His eyes had closed tightly as the pleasure had rocked him to his core. Pleasure she’d so freely given him.

She’d really expected him to come into the bed with her. Take her into his arms and kiss her, make love to her…

Sara banished the thoughts immediately. A terrible cloud of guilt crashed in around her. What had she been thinking? How could she even fantasize about this dangerous stranger, this fugitive with no memory, in such an intimate way and with her husband’s wedding band still on her finger.

Just because she’d been without a man for over two years didn’t mean she could jump into bed with the first one who sent shivers of passion shooting throughout her. Just because whenever she looked into his dark, charming emerald green eyes, she found herself flirting with all kinds of forbidden fantasies and desires.

She’d thought no other man could make her feel this desirable again. It would be too easy to fall into bed with Tom. Way too easy.

She’d seen the same desire, the same hunger in his eyes as what engulfed her.

But what about when he left? What if he stayed and she fell in love, and the police caught and killed him? She’d be devastated.

Tom had been right to stop what was happening between them last night.

She had to face reality. He was a stranger. A dangerously sexy man who she needed to stay away from.

Far, far away.

—

Tom was rummaging around in the barn looking for his gloves and a clean container to place the evidence in, when he decided to take a closer look at the antique motorcycle propped up in the far corner. It was dusty and red. A ‘55 Buch, if he guessed right. The chrome was in relatively good shape. Actually, the whole bike looked in pretty good shape. Maybe it still worked.

He unscrewed the gas cap and sniffed. The foul odor of gas made him grimace. Suddenly a surge of adrenaline shot through his veins. Bright flashes of light blinked in front of his eyes and before he knew it, he was sailing on a motorcycle…

Cold wind whipped past him, shrouding him in its chilly cloak. He shivered violently against the freezing onslaught. If only he’d been able to dress warmer. But there hadn’t been any time.

The dark gray sky grew lighter as the sun threatened to peak over the horizon. Already the early morning traffic had thickened as he drove the straight ribbon of highway toward freedom. If his luck held, he’d cross the Canadian border into Quebec without a problem. The recently stolen bike plates would hopefully attest to that.

The vision disappeared as fast as it had appeared.

It left him grabbing onto the seat of the motorcycle for support. His face was drenched with sweat, his mind gnawed on the fear that had followed him out of the vision.

Stolen plates? Without a doubt, he’d been running from the law. Why else steal license plates?

Spearing a trembling hand through his hair, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his growing fears.

Why else would he come here and stick a gun in Sara’s face, and then almost attack her with a knife? He must be an escaped madman, that’s why he was heading into Canada with stolen license plates.

The thought brought bitter bile rolling up into his throat. If he didn’t leave now, Sara could be his next victim. In a blind panic, Tom headed for the open barn door.

—

Sara was singing her heart out when she heard the distinct sound of an approaching engine. A loud cry escaped her lips as she peeked out the screen door. Officer Justin Jeffries sat on top of a very muddy four-wheeler and he was cruising into the parking lot.

Oh, my God!

Tom!

Where was he? Had he heard the engine? Taken cover? Or had Justin Jeffries spotted Tom from afar and headed down to arrest him?

She felt herself sway slightly with panic, and immediately inhaled a few quick deep breaths to calm her suddenly racing heart. It took her a few more seconds before she was calm enough to move her legs.

With her insides trembling uncontrollably, she plastered a smile on her face and pushed open her creaking screen door just in time to see Justin’s tall, thin body lean over his four-wheel, all-terrain vehicle and heft from a basket in the rear of the vehicle two dirt-spattered large paper grocery bags into his thin, spindly arms.

Yesterday, on the telephone, she’d told him she was all set with food and now here he was. She should have expected this intrusion. It was his pattern. He always showed up uninvited.

She should have warned Tom to keep a low profile. She could only hope and pray he had heard Justin coming. To have a policeman hanging around her place on his day off was the last thing they needed.

She tried to keep her cool as Justin strolled casually up the walk toward her. He wore very muddy midnight blue overalls and a baseball hat was pulled low over his forehead hiding his jet-black hair. The black mustache perched beneath his hawkish nose and those piercing deep blue eyes behind the too-thick glasses made Sara shiver a bit as she received the impression he was a turkey vulture and she his prey. It hadn’t been the first time she’d sensed that feeling over the past few years.

“Morning, Sara!” he shouted cheerfully, all the while his narrow eyes scanned every inch of her place, leaving Sara with the distinct feeling her surroundings were being searched.

Mentally, she did a run-down to make sure she hadn’t inadvertently left anything suspicious belonging to Tom out in the open that might lead Justin to believe she had a man around. She couldn’t come up with anything.

“What brings you here so early in the morning?” Sara said as pleasantly as she could, trying like crazy to keep the tightness out of her voice. She could tell he’d picked up on her nervousness because he eyed her curiously and quickly nodded at the two bags in his arms.

“Compliments of the Widow McCloud. I mentioned you were flooded in and you had enough grub to keep you going, but the widow said she remembers all too well how it used to be in the Spring out this way. And how she’d wished she could get her hands on some fresh food while she was stranded. So she insisted I come and deliver these to you.”

His cobalt blue eyes eagerly searched her face for approval.

“How thoughtful of her—and of you for bringing it over, Justin. And by the looks of you, you had a pretty tough time getting in through the hydro road.”

“I must admit it was a wild ride and I did get stuck a couple of times. Took me two hours, but the fresh food had to get through.”

He gazed over at the giant woodpile then at the splintered wheelchair ramp and the broken veranda railing. “Looks like you had some trouble. Your romance tree fell over, huh? Too bad. Lots of people liked that tree. Lot of initials in it. Lots of history.”

Sara detected the disgust in his voice. She knew he hadn’t liked her romance tree. Once she’d heard him say to one of her male clients it was silly to carve a heart and a couple’s initials into a tree because the next thing you knew the sweetheart had herself another man. Sara wondered why he was so down on couples. She’d never seen him with a girlfriend or even heard him speak of one.

He wasn’t such a bad-looking fellow—it was just his uppity attitude that had turned the women away.

He hoisted the large grocery bags uncomfortably in his arms, obviously waiting for an invitation inside.

It took every ounce of strength she could muster to say, “Come on in. I’ve got some peppermint tea brewing. It’s about ready.”

Her lungs deflated when he accepted the offer. She didn’t know why she should be so shocked. He always accepted an invitation from her, and when she didn’t offer, he’d invite himself in anyway. Besides, she had to act as if nothing was wrong. Act as if she wasn’t harboring a fugitive from the law.

On the porch, he placed the groceries onto the swing and quickly got out of his muddy boots and coveralls before lifting the bags again. Sara held the screen door open to allow him to pass inside and before following him, she cast a quick glance around to see if she could spot Tom. She couldn’t see him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned and went inside.

Justin Jeffries had already deposited the two grocery bags onto the countertop and had made himself at home by pouring himself a mug of steaming tea. She’d known him for years. He’d been a lifelong friend of Jack’s. When they’d moved to Ontario, Canada, Justin had eventually followed by accepting a position at the local OPP detachment.

She’d never really liked him very much, and she didn’t know why. He’d never given her any cause to dislike him. But she remembered her sister Jo’s words.
Always follow your instincts, girl. They’ll never steer you wrong.

Since childhood Jack and Justin had been inseparable buddies, only God knew why. They were total opposites. Where Jack was laid-back and easygoing, Justin was over-friendly and as nervous as a field mouse crossing a busy highway.

She watched silently as Justin took a seat at the kitchen table. A large smile lifted his black mustache as he took a generous gulp of the peppermint tea. “Ahhh, it really hits the spot. Worth it to drive all those bumpy miles for your tea, Sara.”

She nodded in polite approval, and sat down on the edge of her seat opposite Justin. Her insides screamed at him to hurry up and finish the tea and leave. For all she knew, Tom could walk inside without being the wiser that they had company—company of the worst kind.

“How’d you make out with last night’s storm?” he asked as he took another sip, his eyes scanning her kitchen.

“Fine.” Sara frowned as she remembered this morning’s horrible dream of the shadow about to kill Tom. And now she realized her sick dream had been some weird, twisted premonition.

“It sure was a doozie,” Justin laughed. “Lightning hit the church steeple. Killed the clock. It stopped ticking at 3:15 a.m. Electricity is out in some of the rural areas. Phones are still out all over the county. So, who’d you hire to cut and pile your romance tree? They come in through the hydro road, too?”

The question caught her unexpectedly, trailing a frosty shiver through her spine.

“Um—” She forced herself to keep eye contact with him. “What makes you think I’ve hired someone?”

“The flannel shirt on the back of your chair for one.”

Oh, my gosh! She tried to keep her face blank as she silently cursed herself for forgetting about Tom’s shirt.

“Actually the shirt belonged to Jack. I use it for my late evening strolls. And I did the wood by myself.”