Burned (9 page)

The screeching cackle scared him. It was Vic’s scream and the vision of her foot slipping from the ladder that horrified him.

With his heart drumming between his ears and images of his exes broken and dead blurring by, he ran across the room. He hadn’t been able to save Krista or Jean Marie. If he couldn’t save Vic…

He barely got beneath her and braced himself for the impact before she landed in his arms with a whump. If she’d been one step farther…

Setting her not entirely gently on the floor, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Once. Firmly. “You idiot!”

Fire roared in his brain.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?”

His face flamed.

“What in hell are you doing?”

His blood boiled.

“You have no business being on a ladder without someone around. Jesus, woman!” Now that he’d started yelling, he wasn’t sure if he could stop. “Do you not think I’ve had enough women I love die? You need to add yourself to the list?”

“Oh, Hauk.” Vic spoke softly as she moved close and buried her face in his chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?” He pulled her away and looked for a moment into her wide eyes before pulling her back into his arms. His hands trembled as he realized she’d scared herself as much as him. More, he realized that her single touch and whispered apology had diffused the fear raging through him.

“The door scared me.” He spoke much more softly. “You terrified me.”

“Yeah.” She stepped back, keeping her hands at his waist. “I’d have been okay without that cackle going off.”

The woman had nearly plummeted to the floor and yet she stood before him with a smile and light comment about the cackle? She’d lost her damn mind. He must have lost his too, because damn if she didn’t have him laughing.

“Really, Vic. What were you thinking?”

Instead of answering, she stepped away and spread her arms wide.

The decorations suddenly registered. Turning in a slow circle, looking from table to booth and floor to ceiling, he saw what she’d been thinking. What she’d been doing.

His blood cooled and his heart slowed as the adrenaline drained to be replaced by quivering happiness.

“How could I not have noticed?” He knew as he asked the question that he’d been blinded by fear for her. “I walked in here to a cackle and you falling out of the rafters.”

“If it makes you feel better, I hadn’t been alone more than a minute.”

She stood where he’d put her as he walked the room. Climbing the ladder she abruptly vacated, he saw the pulleys his father had designed. “My dad was with you.”

“Yes.”

He’d get an earful later for leaving her alone. She was experienced at climbing rigs and ladders, sure, but that didn’t make it a safe thing to do alone.

“This is what you were doing in your back room yesterday.” He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, but a part of him had thought she was with a man.

“We were just getting started on it.”

She dug a fingernail into her cuticles, pushing at them until she would turn her fingers red. It was a tell he’d noticed about her long ago, though one she didn’t display often. Her uncertainty soothed his. It made him realize it was okay to not have all the answers.

“A few of us worked all night.”

He had wanted to ask her about the sudden secrecy, or do something to make sure she kept him at the front of her mind, but after hearing Sophie’s letter on top of her questions earlier in the morning, he’d had to put his daughter first. Vic had never strayed far from his thoughts though. With those thoughts had come images of what life with her could be like.

Fun.

Surprising.

Happy.

She was the woman who understood him and adored his daughter. She had been there when Sophie’s real mother hadn’t. She’d stood at his side when he had been investigated for Krista’s death and again when Jean Marie had died while rock climbing. She’d warned him of Krista’s dark side but hadn’t judged him for staying with the other woman.

More recently, and on a happier note, she’d surprised him with early morning coffee and amazing sex. She’d gotten him to laugh and driven him to distraction with public and musical torments. She’d worked alongside him on the stage and arranged for a popular country singer to headline at the festival. That last one couldn’t have been easy, given the short notice.

She’d pulled off his haunted pub to the last detail he’d envisioned and had kept it a surprise.

No one else could be more faithful day in and day out and never ask for something in return.

She’d shown him the true meaning of love in every touch and every action. She’d made him want everything and she made him feel brave enough to reach for it.

He crossed the few feet between them without rushing. When he reached her, he said nothing. Instead he swooped her off her feet and carried her to the back stairs that led to his apartment.

After he’d gotten her undressed and tucked into his bed, he crawled in behind her. Surprised the urge to make love to her wasn’t snapping at him as her warmth wrapped around him, he gathered her close. They were going to have ample chances for sex.

Tonight, knowing she hadn’t slept much in the last week, and that Sophie was safe with his parents, he wanted to take care of her. He wanted to sleep with Vic and wake up beside her.

“You are an amazing woman with the biggest heart I have ever seen,” he whispered against her hair, loving the feel of her curled against him. “I have no idea what I did to deserve you.”

“Hauk?” She turned over so she was facing him. “What—?”

He leaned in and kissed her. Slowly, tenderly, he hoped to convey his feelings with the caress. To make sure she didn’t misunderstand anything, he broke the kiss and backed up enough to see her eyes. Resting a hand on her cheek, he rubbed her cheekbone with his thumb and smiled.

“I never would have imagined I could feel this way about a woman. About a friend. It’s more than…” He wasn’t doing this right. “I haven’t shared my bed with anyone for…a really long time. It’s been even longer since I shared my heart.”

“Hauk.” Her voice cracked a little.

Smiling, he kissed her again. “I love you, Vic. More than I have ever loved you as a friend. More than anyone could ever love you.”

Smiling as her eyes softened with exhaustion, she kissed him. When she spoke it was with a slight slur. “I love you.”

The next part was a little harder, it had his heart pounding again, but he wasn’t stopping. The moment she’d landed in his arms, so had the truth his parents had spent years pointing out.

Women didn’t die because he loved them. Krista and Jean Marie had been horrible accidents. Vic… He’d loved Vic for years, though he hadn’t recognized it, and she was still around.

“Do you love me enough to become a more permanent part of my life? Mine and Sophie’s?”

“I would love that, but are you sure you want to risk it?”

Only she would ask that when getting proposed to. He knew how to put her concern to rest. For once, he had the perfect words in mind. “I’ve been wondering a lot lately what you would do to the dynamic of my family.”

“And?” She wiggled deeper into the bed. Closer to his body.

“And I know you are the perfect mom for Sophie, but mostly you are the perfect woman for me.”

Her lips curled against his chest. Her breath blew warm. “Even if you did call me an idiot.”

“I’ll call you one again if you ever pull a stunt like that without me around.”

“Hauk.” She kissed him. Once. Softly. “I love Sophie. But I adore you. I would love to become a part of your family.”

“Good.” He kissed her as she had him. Once. Softly. “I just have one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“No more ladders or hanging from rafters.”

She was laughing as she nodded in agreement. Vic wasn’t going anywhere. Tonight or for the rest of their lives.

Heart-stopping puppy chases, childhood melodrama and the aborted hangings of innocent toys are all in a day’s work for Nikki Duncan. This athletic equestrian turned reluctant homemaker turned daring author is drawn to the siren song of a fresh storyline.

Nikki plots murder and mayhem over breakfast, scandalous exposes at lunch and the sensual turn of phrase after dinner. Nevertheless, it is the pleasurable excitement and anticipation of unraveling her character’s motivation that drives her to write long past the witching hour.

Whether it’s romantic suspense or contemporary romance with a focus on the lovers, the only anxiety and apprehension haunting this author comes from pondering the mysterious outcome of her latest twist.

Learn more about Nikki by visiting her website at
www.NikkiDuncan.com
. Nikki is also on Facebook and Twitter at
NDuncanWriter
.

He’s sailed the seas for adventure…and found the sexiest one back at home.

Wicked

© 2012 Nikki Duncan

Whispering Cove, Book 3

Danica Kent MD, has settled into her new role as a small-town doctor. She caters to her Whispering Cove patients, especially the rum-drinking, poker-playing, town grandfathers who have their hands in a bit of everything. But when one of those patients brings her face-to-face with her high-school crush, the work she’s done to reinvent herself falters.

Braydon Mitchell sails around the world writing freelance magazine articles. With no desire to settle down, he’s successfully avoided his grandfather’s pleas to come home...until now. Returning out of worry for the old man’s health, Braydon finds old friends in town for their high-school reunion. And something he hadn’t expected. Danica, the awkward teenage geek who’s all grown up—and filled out in
all
the right places.

From their first touch, erotic sparks make Braydon want everything he isn’t built for—small-town stability, a strong woman’s love, family. And Danica wonders if Braydon has dropped anchor for good…or if her lover will be gone with the next tide.

Warning: Sweet, stunning, single doctor seeks strong, sexy sailor for sailing, snuggles and plenty of batten-down-the-hatches and hold-on-tight lovin’. Meddling grandfathers can please butt the hell out.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Wicked:

Checking his watch, Braydon saw he had a few hours before needing to shower for dinner, so he headed to the cabin to grab the polish for the rails. He didn’t like cleaning, but living on a boat and travelling the world writing freelance stories for yachting and sporting magazines made hiring a regular housekeeper tough. Besides, he was particular about his boat.

Starting at the bow, he sat cross-legged and cleaned and polished the rails. Steady, slow and even strokes back and forth removed the salty build-up and restored the shine. With the front part of the railing done, he moved to work on the rigging hooks on the deck. The action of rubbing the surface to a gleam brought images of Danica to mind.

Images of her stretched out beneath him on the newly cleaned surface. His hands stroking and rubbing her, awakening her body and the shine of arousal he’d seen in her eyes earlier. His dick hardened, pressed into the zipper of his cut-offs.

When he’d agreed to attend the reunion, he’d been surprised at how much he’d wanted to be there. He’d wanted to see old friends and even those he hadn’t been friendly with. How much did ten years change people? Were the cliques the same? Were the nerds still nerds, snobs still snobs, jocks still jocks?

He had one answer. Sort of. Danica Kent, for all her awkwardness, was changed and still the same. Every run-in with her in high school had been stilted and awkward. She’d fawned over him, followed him, and spied on him from her room. She’d been unable to talk to him without stumbling over her tongue or spilling things on one of them or tripping. And okay, some had seen her attention as creepy, but mostly he’d found it kind of flattering.

She was still awkward, but somehow not. Clearly she still had the talking and tripping issues, but she hadn’t spilled anything. And damn if she hadn’t turned into the proverbial swan, even if it was with help from Victoria at the Whispering Salon.

“Nice boat.”

“Shit!” Braydon lurched up, tossed the rag and can of polish into the air, slipped on the newly polished surface and fell overboard with a giant splash.

Treading the cool water, he eyed Danica as she moved to the rail. No, she hadn’t spilled anything. She’d moved on to dumping him off boats.

“Do you need help?”

“No! Just move to the cockpit before you hurt yourself.” Rather than wait to see if she responded, he swam to the back of the boat where their small watercrafts were tied and climbed aboard.

She opened the gate part of the back edge of the boat. Rather than swing it in toward her, she swung it out, smacked him in the forehead and sent him falling backwards a second time with a lancing pain to his head. He fell into the inflatable dingy, which was somewhat padded, but his hand slammed into the motor and his left ankle crashed against the boat with a resounding crack.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Damn it. Sorry.” Danica’s voice didn’t rise to frantic levels, but he could imagine her flapping her hands in hysteria.

Instead, she climbed down the few steps and got into the dingy with him. “Don’t move.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.” She pulled her t-shirt over her head with no apparent thought to anyone on nearby boats, leaned over him and pressed it against his forehead to staunch the bleeding.

Her white, lace-covered nipples hovered just in front of his mouth. His cock hardened again. His body urged him to listen to desire, to lean forward and pull a nipple into his mouth. To taste more than her tempting mouth.

She moved the t-shirt, now half-soaked with blood, and put it immediately back to the cut. “This is bad.”

“I’m fine.” Ignoring his body’s impulses, he replaced her hand on the t-shirt with one of his own. “I’ve got this, Danica.”

“You’re going to need stitches.”

“I’ve had worse.” He moved to sit up. The boat rolled beneath him from dizziness and nausea rather than waves. Maybe he hadn’t had worse.

“I’m the doctor here. You need to move slowly, and you need stitches.”

“Okay.” If she wanted to play doctor without her top he wasn’t going to argue. No straight man would. “Help me to the cockpit. There’s a first aid kit there.”

“My office at the house would be better.”

As tempting as following her home was, there was no reason. “I have everything you could need.”

“If you say so.” She refrained from calling him stubborn, but he heard the suggestion underlying her words.

Neither of them spoke again while she helped him out of the constantly bouncing dingy and up the few stairs. She followed his instructions to find the first aid kit.

He sat in the captain’s seat with the sun shining down and watched her move around the boat comfortably. With all the supplies gathered, she stood in front of him and cleaned the wound. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t push the door. That latch smacked the frame and it bounced back.”

“So your intention wasn’t to decapitate me?”

“No, Braydon.” She scrunched up her nose crinkling the thin scar into microscopic puckers and concentrated on tying off the first stitch. “I took a vow to heal rather than harm people.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate to see what happened if you set out to harm me.” He smiled through a wince to make sure she knew he was kidding. She was talking without her regular awkwardness and he wanted to keep her doing so.

She chuckled. “I’ve never been accident prone, but judging by the state of your emergency kit the same can’t be said for you.”

He ignored her remark on the battered case and supplies he’d restocked many times, adding to them with each injury. “So it’s only me who knocks you off your game?”

“I’ll admit you do something to me.”

Damn, but the possibility flopped happily in his gut. A speed boat zipped past, rocking the boat. Danica froze with her needle poised above his eye. He grabbed her hips to steady her. Though she seemed to be well-balanced on her own feet, he didn’t release her. Instead, he wondered if she wore panties to match her bra.

“Something? You won’t be more specific?” He worked his thumbs in small circles over her pelvis. Fully in doctor mode, she didn’t respond.

“No. And stop moving.” She snipped the thread off. “I only have two stitches to go.”

His forehead tingled beneath her touch. The pulse in his neck pounded painfully, and it wasn’t entirely due to the blood loss. Her nipples stiffened behind the thin lace bra with little bumps circling them. His balls tightened. “Am I going to have a charming scar like yours?”

“What?”

“The scar lining your nose. How’d you get it?”

“Fishing hook gone awry.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. The hook didn’t catch in the fish’s mouth right. I pulled it out of the water. It opened its mouth. The hook flipped back and caught me.” She tapped her glasses and smiled. “Now I have a scar and get to live with glasses.”

“It went into your eye?” He studied her face, looking for more scarring than the thin line. There was none. Someone had done great work, yet the lingering imperfection made her more appealing.

“Yeah. Could’ve been a lot worse. I mean think about it. What’s sanitary about a fishing hook fresh from the fish’s mouth with the bait still on it?”

“Not a damn thing.” He would have laughed at the oh-my-gag-that’s-repulsive look on her face if she didn’t have a needle in his forehead. “When did it happen?”

“Summer before freshman year.” She tied and cut off the last stitch and set the scissors aside. “There. Keep it clean and the stitches will need to come out in four or five days. If you use Vitamin E after that you won’t scar.”

He hooked his index fingers into the waist of her shorts and pulled her closer so she stood between his legs. “Are you that good?”

“I trained with a plastic surgeon and worked in a New York City emergency room.” Her breasts rose and fell with choppy breaths. “If you’re going to be hit in the head and need stitches—”

“You’re the woman to do the hitting.”

“The stitching at the very least.”

“Tell me something, Danica.” He slid his palms over her stomach, tracing the subtle edges of her abs with his finger tips and slowly edged toward her breasts. “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?”

His thumb tweaked her nipple. “Why did you come to my boat?”

“Did you know the human body can function without a brain?”

“Good. You can shut yours off and just respond.” He didn’t care why she’d come to his boat. He’d endured her hands on him for as long as he could. She was here. She was half naked. He was all for getting her completely naked.

Braydon leaned forward and kissed the edge of her bra, swiping his tongue beneath the lace edge. She moaned and canted closer. He popped the button of her shorts and lowered her zipper. His body begged from his goose pimpling flesh to his tingling scalp to his pulsing cock.
Release. Soon. Very soon.

“Be sure, Danica.”

She kissed his ear lobe, pulling the tender skin between her teeth. “I’m sure.”