Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense) (20 page)

“Hey
there,” he called to her once he reached the shore and snugged his dinghy up
along a sand hill to secure it.  He wore jeans and a dark fleece pullover. 
Hugging herself as she walked toward him, Nicole felt her nerves take hold of
her stomach and wrap it in a knot. 

She
took the candle out of her jacket pocket, and quickly re-buttoned the top two
buttons that had blown open.  If this weather kept up, soon she would need to
put away the worn velvet jacket she loved, and replace it with her heavy
shapeless bundle of a winter coat that made her look like a blueberry.

“This
is for you,” she said, offering the thing.

Michael’s
brows furrowed for a moment, obviously a bit confused, but he took it anyway. 
When he reached for it, his fingers brushed against hers.  Somehow even in the
cold his hand was warm.  “It's a thank you gift,” she explained unnecessarily. 
“For taking care of Puddle today.” 

Immediately,
Michael made a
tah
sound of exasperation and shook his head.  “Nicole,
you don't have to thank me.  Now is the fridge working okay?”

“Yes,
it's fine. Thanks for fixing it—oh!  Sorry, I'm not supposed to say that.”

“That's
right, you're not,” he scolded mildly.

She
let a laugh slip.  “You're so bossy all of sudden.”

“And
you're so sweet it's hard to take,” he muttered.  His words caught her by
surprise.  She looked at him—a little sheepishly maybe—before Michael changed
the subject.  “So why a candle?”

“Honestly? 
It was the first thing I saw after I told you I had something.”

He
gave a brusque laugh.  “Holy shit...you lied to me!”

As
her hair whipped around in the wind she managed a saccharine smile.  “I prefer
to call it 'bluffing'.”

“Smartass.”

“But
you didn't let me finish.  I also thought it was something you could use. 
Probably not on your boat or anything, but maybe when you get home?”

“Sure,
the next time I have some friends over to watch a game, I'll be sure to light
up my new scented girly candle with gold ribbons all over it.”

Giggling,
she said, “See, there ya go.”

With
a chuckle, Michael leaned in closer and kissed her cheek.  “Thanks,” he said
softly.  “And I
am
allowed to say it.”  Nicole wanted to laugh or say
something clever back but she couldn't think.  Her breath caught as soon as
Michael's warm mouth touched her skin.  Heat rushed to her face, flushing her
cheeks, even after he'd pulled back. 

The
wind blew harder, rocking the trees back and forth.  They erupted into a sound
like the frantic tearing of tissue paper on Christmas.  But for this instant,
Nicole was impervious to the cold.  Blood raged hotly through her body, as her
heart beat chaotically in her chest.  Face to face, she looked up at Michael,
into his eyes, as he looked down—his expression serious, intense—and he inched
closer.  “Nicole...” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. 

Her
friends' warnings played again in her mind.  Then she noticed that her fingers
were on Michael's arms, digging into his sleeves.  Unwittingly, she tore him
closer, even as her mind pulled them apart.  His warm hand slid over her neck
then, and she parted her lips, not to protest or to kiss him, but to gasp, as
his mouth drew closer and her heart pounded in her ears. 

His
lips touched hers and just like that, his mouth was firmly, warmly kissing
her—and she was kissing him back.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and
tilted deeper into the kiss, feeling blissfully overwhelmed by the
seductiveness of his mouth, his tongue, everything about him, and then sanity
broke in—and the words of Cameron and Trevor drifted back. 
Don't get too close to him
. 

When
the kiss broke, Nicole pushed back from him.  His eyes searched her face.  She
tried to speak but could not claw the words out of her throat.  She felt caught
all of a sudden and could barely look at him when she said, “I should go.” 
Then she turned.

“No...”

“I—I
have to check on Puddle,” she added hastily.  She was getting in too deep.  She
didn't know enough. 
His story doesn't map
.  Wasn't that what Trevor had
said? 

Nicole
already knew that she hadn’t been thinking clearly lately. 

Making
her way up the sandy beach to the grass, and then to the porch, she thought she
heard Michael call to her.  But she wasn't sure, because her mind was speeding
as chaotically as her pulse.  When she finally unlocked the door and stepped
inside, she exhaled a breath and paused and told herself that it was just as
well when—abruptly, there was a knock. 

She
froze. 

“Nicole,”
a voice said.  “Open the door.”

PART II

As soon as Michael's eyes locked with Nicole's, his
face turned hungry.  Coming through the door in one swift step, he reached for
her, slid his hand around her neck and pulled her forward.  With a soft gasp,
Nicole's mouth melded to his, her body stunned and exhilarated.  Michael kissed
her with possession, more ardently than he had on the beach. 

The door shut behind him.  She moaned and grabbed at
his pullover.  His other hand snaked around her waist, pressed her tightly up
against his body.  As her lips clung to his, he slicked his tongue into her
mouth.  A sudden, scorching heat burned between her legs. 

Soon
Michael's hands were on her breasts.  He wasted little time touching her
through her clothes.  Rather in an instant he seemed to have pulled her jacket
open and off, and pushed her sweater up.  One hand slid up over Nicole's neck,
holding her there.  Not hurting her, but clasping her neck firmly, the warmth
of his palm seeping straight into her skin, arousing her to the point of
breathlessness.  Then he was peeling down her bra cup and running his palm over
her naked breast, across her nipple. 

Nicole
clung to him.  She savored the feeling of his hands on her bare skin, hands
that should be cold from outside but were warm and a little rough.  He made a
husky sound in his throat, as he slid his hands over her bottom then gripped
onto it.  When their lips broke apart, their foreheads touched, until Nicole's
gasp was devoured again.  All she knew was that she was clutching onto him, her
body collapsed against his, as they somehow walked their way backward, through
the archway, and eventually to the living room.  She could feel him hard,
pressing insistently against her stomach; instinctively she licked her lips,
moaned. 

Once
Michael tore his mouth from hers, he dragged his tongue down her neck.  Her
knees almost buckled, but she gripped onto him to steady herself and then, just
catching her breath, she whispered, “Stop.  Wait...”

“Okay,”
Michael agreed.  He was breathing raggedly, too, which aroused her more, to be
so desired by him.  His mouth was wet and partly open, his lips were luscious
in a way that she had never noticed until now.  “What’s wrong?” he said.

“I…this
is too fast.”

He
nodded as though he knew she was right, yet he didn’t pull away. 

Nicole
inhaled a breath and stepped back a few inches.  Her palms rested on his shirt,
and he stilled his hands on her waist.  “I don’t really know enough about you,”
she continued.  “I mean…even though it seems longer, you’ve really only been
here for one week.”

“It
does seem longer,” he admitted. 

“And…well…I
don’t want to seem accusatory or anything, but…”  A bit sheepishly, her eyes
skirted around the room, until she managed to blurt out what she was thinking. 
“Well, how much vacation time do you have anyway?  Aren’t they expecting you
back at your job soon?  You never talk about your job—and what about the part
for your boat?  Nothing’s come to the mailbox yet.  I hope you don’t feel I’m
butting into your business or anything—”

“No,
no, of course not,” Michael said quickly, and in a rather deft motion, he slid
his hand more firmly around her waist and brought her down on the sofa beside
him. 

They
both angled their sitting positions to face each other.  “Nicole…” he began,
“there’s something I should have told you.  Right from the start.”  Nervously,
she waited.  So Cameron and Trevor had been right; there was more to this
story.

Michael
continued, “I should have told you, but I was…ashamed.  See, the truth is, I
don’t have a job to go back to.  I got fired recently for punching my boss.” 
Her mouth dropped open in genuine surprise.  “I didn’t want to tell you,” he
went on, “because I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of thug.  I’m
really not like that.”

“I
know you’re not,” she said gently.  “But why did you punch him then?”

“Because
he’s a—you know I’m really trying not to curse as much with you, but this one’s
gonna be tough.”

Nicole
smiled at him, and she reached for his hand, squeezed it with affection.  “I’m
glad you told me the truth.” 

His
palm turned in hers and he locked their fingers together.  “As for my boat,
it’s an easy fix, but I just haven’t been in a rush to do it, honestly—because
I’ve been having so much fun with you.”  At that, her emotions flooded, making
it feel as though her heart filled up her entire chest.  He reached over to hug
her then, and she climbed up to wrap her arms around his neck. 

“We
have plenty of time then,” she said, speaking softly into his shoulder.  “Let’s
go more slowly, okay?” 

“Of
course,” he murmured.  “Anything you want.”

***

“I'm
telling you, that man is trouble.”

“Now,
calm down, I'll make you some tea.  You're going to get yourself upset.”

“I
don't want tea, Ginger.  I want that man to leave.”  Despite what she said,
Hazel was visibly upset.  Few people ever saw Hazel like this—no makeup, only
the gleam of cold cream residue on her face, her dark hair covering her
shoulders, falling in tired waves over the lapel of her bathrobe and her hands
wringing, anxiously.  “You need to call the police,” she added.  “Of course I
would do it myself but I'm...too busy.”

Too
busy
. 
Ginger knew that wasn't true.  Hazel was never too busy to make her demands
heard.  Ginger knew her older sister better all too well.  Despite some of the
things that Hazel had done in the past, Ginger still loved her, and pitied her
at times.

Now
Ginger sighed, prepared to endure another of Hazel's diatribes about this man,
Michael King, docked right behind the house. 
Why hadn't he left?  What was
he up to?
  On it would go.  Ever since Walt Baker had been legally declared
dead, Hazel had developed a paranoia about the police.  Over the years, her
insistence on privacy had worsened into an obsession.  Ginger could see that
her sister's bombast was often a cover for her own grasping anxieties.  Even
tonight—the clutching, the pacing up and down—and all over vacationer Michael
King. 

“I
fail to see why Nicole Sheffield is doing nothing to encourage the man to
leave.  It's an absolute disgrace.”

“I
think his boat's disabled,” Ginger offered as a gentle reminder.  Then she rose
from the vanity that had been their mother's.

“Are
his legs disabled as well?” Hazel shot back.  “There are at least four
perfectly good inns with current availability, all within walking distance, as
a matter of fact.”

“Don't
let it upset you so,” Ginger suggested and tapped her older sister's hand,
which was clutching a handkerchief.  “I'll go make you some tea—” 

“God
knows what's going on between them,” Hazel remarked bitterly.  “
That
must be why she doesn't even care how her neighbors feel.”

“Oh,
Hazel, now I really don't believe anything is going on,” Ginger assured her. 

“They're
probably performing lewd, immoral acts as we speak,” Hazel insisted.  She was
always so sure about people, but it was never the good in people; it was only
the bad, the flawed, the “lewd.”  It was why she barely acknowledged Vickie
Finn whenever their paths crossed, although Ginger was still pleasant toward
her.  Hazel insisted that Vickie had become a tramp, and therefore a disgrace
to the town.  But in fairness, Vickie had spent her youth being so morbidly
overweight.  The only boy who seemed to show any interest in her at all was
Todd Finn.  After she'd lost the weight, she had probably liked the attention
she suddenly got from other men.  Sure, Vickie had become a bit flashy, but
Ginger doubted it went beyond flirting. 

Perhaps
it was ironic—considering Ginger's own personal life—but it was hard to see
people as such secretive, predatory creatures.  She had trouble picturing her
neighbors doing all the things that Hazel privately accused them of.  “I take
it doesn't bother you?  To have some
stranger
practically outside our
back door, ready to pry into our personal business—”

“I
really can't believe he would take an interest in our personal affairs.” 

“I
still say you should call the police.  Tell them that this man has to leave. 
He is a suspicious character!  We don't feel safe!”