A Shore Thing (21 page)

Gage scraped his fingers over his scalp. “I really do not have the time—”

“Better make the time for this. Wasn’t easy setting up this soiree tonight. Your boss’ll be there along with various townspeople who have clout around here, if you get my drift.” Rick snarled. “And if we’re going to crush this merry band of revolutionaries trying to carve us out of jobs, we need to make sure we’re all on the same page. Capiche?”

The cloak and dagger routine was getting old. If this meeting was that important, why hadn’t Redmond phoned him himself? No sooner had this thought come to mind when a new e-mail popped onto the screen.

Rick sounded impatient. “So we’ll see you at the Jamison house, then.”

Gage clicked on the bold-faced message calling from his inbox. It was from Redmond, inviting him for drinks and conversation tonight on Cascade Court. He clicked “delete” and, reluctantly, gave Rick the answer he wanted to hear.

Twenty minutes later Gage made the drive up the hill toward the Jamison home, still kicking himself for not removing his contacts. The mixture of moist air and approaching headlights blurred his vision, causing him to squint. He had hoped to be home by now, tucking Jeremiah in for Suz and hearing about her day working on Callie’s cottage. The kinds of things he’d be doing once his business took off—hopefully with a wife and child of his own.

No time for that. The custom homes perched on this undulating land were visions, the kind that pulled him out of the bed in the mornings. High-end, well-designed beauties, all of them. He checked the address highlighted on the curb with the one he’d memorized.

This was the one. The driveway was filled with expensive cars, sleek and dark, but polished so well that they glowed in the moon’s light. He parked his truck on the street and weaved his way up the drive, recognizing Tori’s car parked at the front.

Only a glimmer of artificial light seeped from the front windows and no noise whatsoever greeted him besides the cricket serenade drifting from an adjacent field. He took the first step up the wide, molded porch and stopped. His tired eyes picked up a movement to his right. Gage stood a minute, frozen, wondering if he was about to be accosted by a wild animal and if so, why he hadn’t already hightailed it to the front door.

He took the second step and heard a sneeze. A human one. One dainty, human sneeze. His eyes had absorbed enough of the darkness now that he could more easily make out his surroundings. Someone ducked and ran behind a stand of trees.

Curious, he stepped away from the house and onto plush, wet grass. He followed a shallow rustling, winding his way around to the side of the property that lay unshielded by fence or wall. Instead, a newly planted stand of pines struggled to create a barrier between the home and curiosity seekers. And through that flimsy stand of baby pines, he saw a familiar figure crouched beneath a window.

“Callie?” He tried to force laughter and the tinge of shock from his voice.

She whipped him an annoyed look, her face illuminated enough by the partial moon for Gage to see the scowl forming in her eyes. She impatiently waved him over, one slender finger pressed against her lips.

Gage approached, bit back a smile, and squatted in the dirt, close enough to draw in her scent. The effect, a longing that tugged, startled him. “What are we doing here?” He didn’t bother to keep the tease from his voice.

“Ssh!” Callie’s fingers clung to a window ledge, keeping her from settling onto the cold ground. Seeing her there, holding onto that ledge, made him want to wrap his arms around her and allow her body to ease against his. He shook away the image.

A spike of laughter from inside the house jarred the silence between them. Gage moved his mouth closer to Callie’s ear, a strand of her hair tickling his nose. “We toasted to common ground the last time we were together. Had no idea you were being so literal.”

A soft groan slipped from her lips. Male voices churned together on the other side of the glass, volume turned up. Callie put a hand up to stop Gage from saying another word, only when she did her fingertips brushed his cheek, sending a heated ripple through him. Quickly she pulled her hand away.

As she did, a million thoughts surged inside Gage’s head. He didn’t care that his knees would soon begin to ache from his weight, nor that moist earth was oozing its way into the patterned crevices of his shoes, only that he and Callie were inexplicably alone, arms and hands brushing against each other, the mingle of fresh pine and her perfume buoying his senses.

As quickly as they had risen, the voices on the other side of the window died down, signaling that the party had moved deeper inside the house. Gage realized that he didn’t care one iota that he wasn’t inside that place, sucking down martinis and slapping backs over the next best project to hit Otter Bay. Sure as that crescent moon shined above them, he knew he would rather be in this precarious predicament than anywhere else.

Callie shifted and let out a sharp breath. She turned her face to meet his gaze and glared at him, her voice a hiss. “I knew it! So much for our truce! You’re on the side of the enemy, I get it, but do you have to participate in something so . . . so . . .”

Her eyes glowed, burning him. “So . . . what?” He put the brakes on his voice, keeping it low, trying to keep the emotion out of it. He tried interjecting some levity. “You’re upset that I didn’t ask you to join me? Is that what this is? Would you have said yes if I had?”

Her face curled in disgust. “Join you for
what?
An old boy’s club meeting? Come. On.”

She turned her head toward the window, stretching herself just enough to peek through a sliver of an opening between two shutter slats. Her blonde hair spiraled down her back and it took all of his fading strength to keep from brushing it with his fingertips.

A sigh fumed out of Callie as she turned and slid down the home’s outer brick wall, her shoes sinking into the dirt. “They’re gone.” Her eyes flashed at his. “Seriously, what are you doing here, Gage? Spying?”

He huffed out a sigh of his own, perplexed. “I could ask you the same thing, now, couldn’t I?”

She crossed her arms and looked away. A glower tipped the ends of her mouth. “What do you think?”

He raised both eyebrows, willing himself to keep his fingers from smoothing out the downward curve of her lips. He steadied himself with one hand against the earth and took a moment to gather air back into his lungs. “Well, I think . . . I think . . .” He raised his chin and found her gaze locked on him, her breathing visible, her chest rising and falling in rhythm. Was she having as much difficulty resisting him as he was her?

He wouldn’t wait to find out.

Gage’s free hand found her chin and he held it gently between his thumb and forefinger. She gave no resistance to his touch. “I came here because I was invited.” He controlled his breathing against a jagged heartbeat. “But strange as this may sound, especially after what we both represent, I would rather be hiding in the dirt with you.”

A flicker softened her mouth and the girl who always had some retort on her tongue, said nothing. Instead she watched him with curious, imploring eyes, her vulnerability melting him. Before he could measure the impact of his actions, Gage’s hand slipped along Callie’s chin line until it cupped the base of her neck. He kissed her, reveling in the sweetness of her lips against his and the purr elicited when their mouths met, only vaguely aware that her initial acquiescence had been replaced by a subtle rebuke.

He pulled away from her—or had she pushed him?

Callie’s eyes grew wide and fierce then, her brows pulled low toward her lashes. Her lips parted sharply, tempting him to cover them again with his own. “Go” she told him, her voice like a cry. “I just want you to go. Now. Please.”

Chapter Twenty-two

I didn’t dare breathe. If I did, I knew the sound would come out rough and uneven like a wave colliding with coarse, chiseled rock. And then my presence would be discovered.

Again.

Reliving the kiss, my fingertips brushed my lips. They felt raw and cold in contrast to Gage’s touch. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It was . . . it was unthinkable. Gage Mitchell and I were on opposing sides and even though we had taken the high road with each other and declared a truce, I had looked at it as more of a stay, a polite promise to keep out of each other’s way.

Until he showed up here and turned my thinking—maybe even my heart—upside down.

He hadn’t wanted to leave. His face registered a string of emotions as I pushed him away, but what made me want to turn my head was the kindness I saw in his eyes. Deep green pools of tenderness that pleaded with me to give him more of myself.

But I held my stance—I always held my stance—and in the end I was relieved that he had, however reluctantly, gone. Instead of heading for the Jamison’s front door, as I had guessed, Gage stuffed his hands into his pockets and took one step backward. He paused a moment, hovering over me as if he had something else to add, his expression flickering between passion and a touch of anger, and then he pivoted in the direction of his truck out on the street.

I swallowed back something that tasted awfully like remorse, but really, he shouldn’t have been here in the first place. If this house contained more than one town council member, then this so-called gathering breaks the open meeting law. Did Gage approve of this kind of sneaking around? Did he realize how brazen an act this meeting might be?

Or could it possibly be that Gage was not fully aware of what he had been invited to?

A door closing, followed by slow footsteps pricked my ears. I pressed my back against the bricks, still sitting on the ground, my bum growing colder by the second. From an awkward angle, my eyes strained to watch the figure descend to the street below. Moisture from the ground had begun to absorb through the seat of my capris, sending a chill through me. I rubbed my arms.

After the lone figure got into a car and drove off, I gently lifted myself out of the damp dirt and peered into the window. A rumble of voices from inside the house caught my attention and I crouched beneath the sill. What was I doing here? The ludicrousness of my actions began to seep into my bones much like the slow absorption of moisture through my clothing. Gage must think I’m mad. Then again, how many crazy women was he likely to kiss the way he just did?

No use. I couldn’t see or hear anything going on in the house. And now that someone had left, who knew if I’d ever be able to prove my suspicion that this meeting was an underhanded attempt to defy the law and the people of this community?

Reluctantly I stood and stretched my limbs, willing away the beginning of a cold ache. With a swift glance around the corner and toward the front door, I stepped through the damp blades of grass, intent on forgetting all about my sad attempt at espionage. Gravel crackled from somewhere behind the drive and I halted. Had I been too preoccupied with my own swirl of thoughts to notice that someone else had arrived?

My eyes darted for somewhere to hide, but how would that look? I stood still, thinking quickly, but coming up with nothing that would look less than suspicious. Another slide of gravel alerted my ears, but still, I saw nothing. Maybe the noise came from a raccoon in search of a stray morsel for a late night snack. My shoulders relaxed. I was hiding from a raccoon.

Shaking off my initial skittishness, I moved quickly across the lawn and toward the street where my car waited at the bottom of the hill. A bright flash blinded me both with its intensity and suddenness and I lurched sideways.

A familiar male voice sliced through the night. “Ms. Duflay?”

I shielded my eyes. “Yes.”

He stepped out from behind a BMW parked in the driveway. “It’s Eliot, Ms. Duflay. From the newspaper?”

I lowered my hand, hoping the action would slow the rapid beat of my heart, its second vigorous workout of the night. “What are you—”

“I was wondering what you were doing behind those bushes, Ms. Duflay?”

The boy with the notepad and camera had aged. Who was this man with the searing stare and pointed questions? I swallowed to wash away the dryness in my throat. “I think you must be mistaken.” I forced myself to breathe. How much, exactly, had Eliot seen? “Is there a reason that you, Eliot, are standing outside here in the dark instead of joining the party?”

“So that’s a party in there. Hmm.” He glanced toward the closed front door. “Word was there was some big meeting going on tonight.” His unwavering eyes taunted me. “Know anything about it?”

I shrugged and forced one foot in front of the other. “Can’t say that I do. Nice meeting up with you, Eliot. Different, but nice.” I moved past him, hoping he wasn’t about to point that camera at me again, and dreading what might happen to the picture he had already snapped. “Night, now.”

“Wait.”

I glanced back at him, the cold night air beginning to give me shivers. “Uh-huh?”

“Do you need a ride home?” His voice sounded husky and almost man-like, until it cracked on the word “home.”

Bless that young boy’s heart. Who wouldn’t appreciate someone of the male species who did not see anything wrong with a relationship between a man and a
slightly
older woman? “Thank you for the offer, but I will be fine. I’ve got my car nearby.”