Double Take (6 page)

Whatever Ollie had done to his office, even if he had to undo legal damage...it was worth it to be with her a little longer.

“Did you bring all your stuff in your car?” he asked.

“Yes. Since the place was described as furnished, I only packed clothes, my laptop and some personal things. Oh, and books. If I’m going to be teaching science, I’ll need to brush up.”

“Why don’t I help you bring it in? From what I remember of science books, they weigh a ton.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

He waved off her objections, already turning to head out the front door. Reaching her car, he spied some boxes on the backseat, and bent to hoist one. Lindsey, sensibly—he liked that—didn’t argue further, instead just opening the trunk and grabbing things, too.

As she’d said, she hadn’t brought a lot with her. A couple of suitcases, a laptop and printer, some sheets and towels—he could understand wanting those around her to give her a sense of home.

Then there were the books.

“Damn, you said ‘books,’ you didn’t say ‘library,’” he said as he hefted a fourth heavy carton out of the trunk and carried it into the cottage. “You planning to teach the kindergartners about quantum physics?”

She shrugged, walking over to place her own box on the floor beside a table in the living room. The table was already covered with the first few they’d brought in. He had no idea where she intended to put all the books; the place certainly didn’t have an office. Or bookshelves. Or much more floor space.

“I want to do some work on my own project while I’m here.”

She didn’t elaborate and he didn’t question her. Instead, he went back outside to bring in the last container—a laundry basket containing detergents and cleaning supplies. When he returned, he said, “Were you a Girl Scout? You came prepared.”

“Definitely not a Scout,” she said with a twist of her mouth. “You had to pay money to join the Scouts, and no way would my parents have ever done that for me.”

He frowned, hearing a jaded sadness in her voice. Obviously she had some issues with her folks.

Having been raised by loving, generous parents, who had given him and his brothers as much as they could afford to give, he really couldn’t imagine growing up that way. But it wasn’t exactly a conversation for the first day they’d met.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to start using those cleaning products right away,” she said, pushing a few long strands of hair away from her face. She yawned broadly. “I could really use a nap.”

“It’s the seasickness. But you should probably have a decent meal before you lie down.”

She grimaced. “Even if I wanted to, that would be tough. I’ve got Mrs. Wymer’s cookies and, I think, some mints in my purse. That’s about it.”

“No Twinkies?” he asked with wag of his brows.

Remembering their earlier conversation, she smiled. “I’m afraid not.”

“There’s always a diner.”

“If the Saturday lunch special is meat loaf, I’d consider it,” she said with another yawn as she put one more box on top of the others on the table. “Otherwise, I’m taking a nap.”

“Understood.” He turned to leave, realizing there was no sense in delaying things further, especially since she obviously just wanted to sleep.

Right before he reached the door, he glanced back and saw the precarious pile of boxes had reached critical mass. It had been leaning before. Now, with the one she’d just placed there, the whole thing was teetering. Watching him, she hadn’t even noticed.

“Look out!”

He lunged toward her, noting her start of surprise, but ignoring it. Diving just beyond her, he stopped the entire stack from toppling down, though he was unable to prevent the very top box from sliding to its death. It hit the floor hard, the tape splitting and the flaps popping open. Books and other items spewed out, clattering onto the hardwood floor. The books stopped where they fell, but the other things spun around, one skittering all the way across the room.

“You almost got clobbered,” he said.

She did not reply; in fact, she didn’t even look at him. She was too busy staring at the items that had spilled out of the box. Lindsey stood as still as a statue, her already pale face losing its last little bit of color. “Oh, my God.”

He followed her stare, wondering what had her so frazzled. At first, he just saw random books and some hard-plastic-wrapped, oddly shaped packages that didn’t quite register. Then he stepped closer and bent down.

The title of one of the books flashed across his consciousness:
Giving Yourself Ultimate Pleasure.
On the cover was a woman, her head thrown back, mouth open on a sensual moan, one hand covering her bare breasts, the other between her legs.

Shocked, he froze in place. His heart leaped up into the vicinity of his throat. All the sexual energy and base attraction he’d felt for Lindsey since he’d spied her on that ferry gushed through him. And that was before he got a better look at some of those oddly shaped items and realized what they all had in common.

When it sank in what he was seeing, Mike grabbed for the back of the nearest chair. Trying to stay steady on suddenly wobbly legs, he exclaimed, “Wild Boar Island’s new schoolteacher is a sex addict.”

“I am
not
a sex addict,” Lindsey said, sounding torn between indignation and utter dismay.

“Sorry,” Mike said, acknowledging as soon as the words had left his mouth that they should have stayed in his head.

But,
damn
. The woman had packed like she meant business—sexy business for one—which was enough to make a man cry. Just from where he stood, he spied at least a dozen female-oriented sex toys, including a pink butterfly thing that the package claimed was to be “strapped on.” A small purple one, shaped like a tiny porpoise, appeared designed to clip onto a woman’s finger. There was a small, metal case for storing what might pass for marbles on a playground but were identified as Ben Wa balls instead.

But wait, there’s more.

He spied several slim vibrators in various colors and textures. And a black harness-looking thing that didn’t seem as if it was made for a single player, which just made his breath grow that much thicker in his lungs. He saw the box for another device called an “anal probe,” which to him sounded like an alien torture tool.

Then his wide-eyed stare fell on the thick, long, extremely graphic-looking device that wasn’t quite as big as what he had in his pants but was pretty damned generous nonetheless. It was not plastic-wrapped. Nor was the one beside it—little dong’s giant brother. The thing was big enough to hold a lamp shade.

Holy shit
.

He couldn’t move. Literally, could not lift a hand, or take a step or do anything except stare. Most of the sex aids were still in their packaging, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if she’d ever opened, used and then repackaged any of them. Or if, God help him, she’d used the ones that
weren’t
still packaged, like the huge dildo.

He didn’t imagine any woman could take that massive conversation piece into herself...but the other one... Had she plunged it into her body? If he bent down and picked it up, would he be able to tell? Did it still hold a faint whiff of musky woman? And Christ, why did he so desperately want to
do
things to her with it?

Wild, erotic images flooded his brain, saturating his imagination. More than just fucking her with that long ridge of rubber, he could close his eyes and picture Lindsey giving herself pleasure, just like the woman on the book. It took no effort at all to imagine her clipping that tiny, purple device onto her finger and sliding it between her thighs, letting the vibrating tip brush against her clit until her hips thrust in sheer need. Her other hand would be on her breast, stroking, squeezing, gently plucking at a perfect nipple as the intensity increased. When she came, she’d be dying for something thick and hard to fill her, and no rubber toy could possibly give her the heat she craved.

But he could. Oh, hell, yes, he could.

In fact, he could practically do it right now. Those mental images were causing stabbing sensations in his groin, and he thought he might burst his zipper.

God help me.

He shook his head, chasing all those pictures out of his mind. He knew they would creep back in later, when he was alone in his small house. It had, after all, been a while since he’d had sex. The last time had been with his upward-climbing ex, before he’d moved here. But, blue balls or not, he sure didn’t want to come across as some horny asshole taking advantage of an admittedly
unusual
situation.

“Sorry, I seem to have dropped your lifetime supply of vibrators,” he finally said, wondering how on earth he could sound so calm when he was certain he hadn’t breathed for the past several seconds.

She groaned. “I can explain.”

“Not necessary. You obviously own stock in a sex toy company?”

She dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head. “Please be gone before I open my eyes again,” she said, sounding beyond embarrassed, verging on humiliated.

He cursed himself for being so flippant. She had to be mortified. He sure would have been if a stranger had gotten a look at his most intimate reading material and personal items. Not that he usually
read
what was between the pages of his subscription mags, the ones delivered in a discreet, brown wrapper. Plus, of course, he also didn’t subscribe to a pocket-pussy-of-the-month club, so there wouldn’t be anything equivalent to shock the average passerby

When he combined the book with the toys, it was obvious this woman took that whole giving-yourself-pleasure thing to heart. Which just made him wonder what it might be like to take that chore from her pretty, soft hands.

Swallowing hard, he said, “Look, don’t be embarrassed. It’s no big deal.” Trying to pretend he hadn’t been imagining her putting something thick and hard between her thighs, he scrambled for another explanation. “It’s, uh, not as if I believe you’re opening an X-rated shop on the island.” Frowning, he added, “You’re not, are you?”

“Of course not. I don’t imagine there would be much call for that around here.”

“You might be surprised,” he said, thinking of a few people who seriously needed to have something shoved up their ass. One of them was Ollie, his own officer, a subordinate who hadn’t yet learned the meaning of that word—
subordinate
. The guy was a buffoon, a good ole’ boy who never would have made it on the force in any mainland city. Apparently, he’d made it on this one only by virtue of being the former chief’s nephew.

“Besides,” she said with a definite eye roll, “that
wasn’t
what I imagined you were thinking.”

No. She probably imagined he was thinking about how she used all these wickedly sexual items on her own stunning, curvy body. Which, of course, he had been.

He met her stare, silently admitting it. She held that stare, from sheer bravado or because she, too, had suddenly started envisioning all-too-sexy ideas about the interesting things two people could get up to with all those appliances.

He’d had a few relationships and more than his share of brief flings. But he honestly couldn’t remember if he’d ever progressed to
this
level of intimacy before. Frankly, he’d never understood why any guy would want to when he had his own hands, mouth and cock to work with.

Just glancing at the colorful items strewn across the floor, however, and picturing running the tip of a slender vibrator over all the most sensitive parts of her body, was enough to open up his mind. He totally got off on oral sex—but how much better might it be if he filled her with a sexy, vibrating toy while he pleasured her with his tongue? Even that alien-probing toy suddenly sounded a little more interesting. He could see how a woman might be interested in double penetration without having to go to bed with two men.

Da-yum.

Forget it. Not double, not even single.

They weren’t just two people who could get up to sexy games; they were strangers. Two strangers who couldn’t get involved, no matter what.

Because if they so much as
touched
one of those kinky things at the same time, he feared the news would smash into the island’s
grapevine
so fast everybody would be drinking Merlot by nightfall.

“Then again, I do like wine,” he mumbled under his breath. Hell, Chianti might as well have been in his bottle as a baby, it was such a part of Santori tradition.

Her brow shot up. “What?”

“Talking to myself. I’m a little out of my element with this one.”

“That makes two of us.” She shook her head, nibbled her lip, then leaned down to begin picking up the strewn items.

Knowing better than to pick up any of the naughtier things for her, he went for the giving-yourself-pleasure book. Unable to resist, he turned it over and read the description on the back. It hinted that the pages contained all kinds of secrets and tips on how a woman could achieve ultimate satisfaction, sans man.

“You don’t really
need
this, do you?” he found himself asking, not sure where the question had come from, or why he’d voiced it. His common sense, and tact, seemed to have departed when it came to Lindsey Smith, some inner bad boy making him up the stakes, just a little.

She’d been grabbing sex toys and shoving them into the box, but stopped midway to stare at him before replying to his question. He tried not to look at the Jolly Green Giant–size dong she was holding and instead focused only on her face.

“What do you mean?”

He could blow it off, retreat to safe conversational territory—if there was such a thing, considering she was holding a two-foot-long cock and he a manual on masturbation. But something made him persist. “You’re beautiful. You’re sexy as hell. Why would you need to...”

“Have sex by myself?”

“Something along those lines.”

Her lashes fluttered; she glanced away, twisting the phallus in her hands as if she didn’t even realize she was holding it. He flinched, unable to help it, because, while the idea of having those slim fingers wrapped around his own dick was exciting as hell, he didn’t think he’d be up for that much hand-wringing. Mr. Big Dong didn’t seem to mind, though; those sex-toy makers obviously made their products very sturdy.