Passion Key (A Romance & Suspense Series) (5 page)

13.

The blank sheet of paper didn’t stay blank for long.  Archer used a charcoal pencil begin to begin his sketch.  He already had a vague shape in mind, but scratching the visual down on paper always helped him see the shapes and angles he needed to clarify before he could start any kind of actual carpentry work.

What he had in mind was a table made of cypress, not too finished, but not overly rustic either.  He had a nice batch of river cypress that was at least one hundred years old.  It was sometimes called pecky cypress because the wood at some point in its life had been invaded by a fungus that created pockets of black when finished.  He considered them badges of honor for a life well-lived.  Archer always thought of it as Florida’s answer to tiger striped oak favored by Arts & Crafts furniture makers.

As he sketched out various ideas, he let his mind wander. He never rushed this part of the process, because to be impatient here would only cause him to lose huge amounts of time during the actual building process due to poor planning.  He’d learned that the hard way.

His sketches increased in speed and soon he had several pages of ideas and no sign of stopping–

The doorbell rang and he ignored it until he finished the last image in his mind.  He stopped and realized that the last sketch was probably his best.

He stood and went to the door.

Archer opened it and he was momentarily caught off guard at seeing Justine Beaudry standing in the doorway with a dazzling smile and a tall, narrow gift bag that obviously contained a bottle or two of wine.

“Justine, are you okay to be up and about?” he asked, stepping aside for her to enter.

As she passed him, he smelled a trace of perfume, along with an underlying hint of something medicinal.

“Yes, that’s my new scent, it’s called Sting Soother No. 5, by Chanel,” she said, and smiled at him.

He shut the door

“It’s very becoming,” he said. “But how is the leg?”

They both looked down at her thigh, which was covered by her Capri pants.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

She held out the gift bag.

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you in person for your quick thinking. What you did was exactly right and the fact that it was done so quickly really helped keep down the effect.”

Archer accepted the bag but said, “You really don’t have to give me anything. I was just making sure nothing happened to you so you could pay me for my work.”

She laughed.

“But thank you,” he said.  He glanced up at the clock on the wall.  It was only half past three.

“I know it’s a little early, but here in the Keys we don’t pay too much attention to official drinking hours and I can see that one of these bottles is chilled.  I say we put it to good use.”

Archer saw her hesitate and he was sure she was going to decline his offer.

“Well, I consider you an official caregiver and I think it would be foolish of me to ignore sound medical advice,” she said.  “So yes, I’ll have a glass.”

He led her to the open kitchen area, retrieved two glasses and uncorked the bottle of chardonnay, then poured them each a glass.

Justine was looking around his space and she said, “Does a tour come with the glass of wine?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“This is an amazing property,” she said.

“Thanks. It used to be a small cigar factory, then it was a hotel, and then it was turned into a boardinghouse.  When I bought it several years ago, it was mostly empty except for one landlord who occasionally swindled someone into renting one of the rooms.”

He pointed out the exposed beams in the great room.

“It took me the better part of two years to rip out all of the rotten wood and the ridiculously bad modifications that had been done over the years,” he said.  “I had pictures of the place back when the cigar people had it, and I thought it was beautiful.  So I kept everything that was original, and tore out all of the crap.  And what I couldn’t save of the original wood, I rebuilt those parts to match.”

“It’s got a classic beauty.”

Just like you,
he wanted to say.  He continued the tour, showing her some of the interesting original woodwork that he had so carefully restored.  Eventually, they wound up near the set of French doors leading to the rear of the property.

“And look at your view!” Justine said. 

He noticed her glass was nearly empty as was his.

“Let me show you the back,” he said. “But first I’ll grab the bottle of wine.”  He went back into the kitchen, jammed the bottle into a bucket with some ice and brought it out to the back.

“Archer this is incredible,” Justine said.  He topped off her glass along with his.

“It was one of the few properties around with this much waterfront,” he said.  “The reason was the cigar folks used to get their tobacco in by pretty big boats, so they refused to sell off any part of the land to developers. And then the hotel people wanted to hold onto it. And the apartment guy was so obnoxious no one could even get him to talk to them about selling off a piece of the property. So it wasn’t until he passed away that it went on the market.  I was lucky in terms of my timing.”

They sat down at the table facing the ocean. The sun was starting its descent and shadows from the royal palms that bordered each side of the landscaping were beginning to lengthen. The water was calm and a sailboat cruised by in the distance, a few people crowded around the prow, watching for dolphin that loved to put on a show.

Archer pretended to watch the sailboat but he was looking at Justine’s profile. He felt his face to start warm along with the rest of him. My God, she was gorgeous, he thought.

He turned away from her just as she started to say something.

“I really have to go after this glass,” she said. “But I could sit here forever.”

“Sometimes I do hang out here for long periods of time,” he said. “Probably longer than I should.”

He nursed his glass of wine, not wanting to finish it too quickly.

“So what brought you to Passion Key?” he finally asked.

Archer saw a brief shadow pass across Justine’s face and he wondered why she reacted so strongly to the question.

“I owned a business back in Chicago, was made an offer I couldn’t refuse so I didn’t,” she explained.  “And then a friend sent the listing for the resort to me, I came down and bought it on the spot.”

She lifted her glass of wine and drained it, then got to her feet.

She really doesn’t like to talk about herself
, Archer noted.

“Anyway, thank you again for helping me,” Justine said. “I think I was more scared than injured but you put me at ease.  It was really kind of you,” she said.

He followed her back inside, and couldn’t help but stare at her body as she walked.

Archer desperately wanted to figure out a way to delay her leaving but he was out of ideas until she stopped and glanced down at his sketchpad.

“Oh, you draw?” she said.

He stood next to her, his left arm brushing against her.

“It’s probably more planning than anything,” he said.

“You make furniture, too?”

“It’s more of a hobby than anything,” he said.

Was it his imagination or did she move her arm against his?

She turned and looked up directly at him.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” she said, smiling.

And then he kissed her.

Her lips were sweet with wine and she pulled back from him, her eyes wide with surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t–”

“I have to go,” she said. There was no anger in her voice, just a firm resolve.

She shut the door quietly behind her.

14.

Justine walked as fast as she could go without actually breaking into a run.  Her face felt hot as she hurried toward home, her body warm with embarrassment.
No, check that
, she thought. Not embarrassment.

Desire.

She slowed as she got to the resort’s courtyard. Her breathing returned to normal and she walked past the front desk, directly to her condo and let herself in.

Justine shut the door and leaned back against it.  She didn’t know if it was the two glasses of wine that were making her head spin, or the incredible memory of how good Archer Thorpe’s lips felt on hers.

My God, the man could kiss.

Her knees felt weak and her body warmed at the memory.  She’d wanted to make love to him right then and there, but luckily a clear head had prevailed and she’d gotten out of there before making yet another mistake with a man.

Justine pushed away from the door, went into her kitchen and got a glass of water.  She drank it quickly, peeled off her Capri pants and looked at her sting.  It was already fading and she felt no ill effects.

A cell phone rang in her bedroom, and she recognized it as the phone the FBI gave her.  They were the only ones who knew the number.

She picked it up and answered.

“Hello?”

“Justine, it’s Agent Runyan.”

Her stomach flopped over.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, we just wanted to check in and make sure everything is okay with you.”

Her words most definitely did not ring true to Justine.

“It would be a lot better if Daniel wasn’t running around a free man. Have you caught him?”

“Not yet, but we’re working on it.”

“No leads? Nothing?”

She heard her sigh, then say, “I’m afraid not. But we don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“That’s not real comforting,” Justine said.  She had a right to be angry.  They had promised they would protect her and now look at the situation.  She was totally vulnerable.  “Plus, I tend to worry when that creep isn’t behind bars seeing as how he would love to kill me.”

Justine tucked the cell phone between her cheek and shoulder and slid on a pair of yoga pants.

“Look, this whole thing will take a bit of adjusting as we all know. Just give it time,” Runyan said.  “Once we catch him, hopefully we’ll never have to talk about him again.”

“That’s the goal,” Justine said.  “I hope we achieve it sooner than later.”

They talked for a few more minutes and then Justine said that she had to get going. She disconnected from the call and stretched out on the couch in her living room. 

She turned on the television, flicked through the channels for a few minutes, and then turned it back off.  The silence in her condo was deafening.

There was a painting on the far wall of a dock with some pelicans standing around.

Justine looked at it, thought of Archer Thorpe’s view of the water and how amazing his place was.  She figured he had done most of the interior work himself, because carpenters didn’t make that much money.  And she vowed she would never marry a wealthy man again.  A simple, poor craftsman would be her ideal choice.  But it would be a choice she didn’t plan on making for a long, long time.

But boy, Archer was a stud muffin.

Great body, handsome face, and soft lips.  She felt herself getting turned on, pictured him here in her condo, both of them taking their clothes off, having sex.

She jumped to her feet.

No!

It was too soon.

Justine slipped on a bikini and went out to the pool.  There was no one there.  She dove in, felt the cool water soothe her and knew the chlorine would help kill anything around her jellyfish sting.

There was no pain.

Which was nice for a change
, she thought.

15.

The design was becoming too elaborate. Archer knew that the best designs, generally, had elements of simplicity.  Some of his favorite pieces of furniture were models of elegance without any complex embellishments.  The Shakers, for instance, had been geniuses when it came to stunning yet minimalist designs.

So still working with paper and charcoal, Archer began to strip away anything unnecessary from his cypress table.  He wanted to make the joinery invisible, seamless, the planks thin and elegant, like a beautiful woman who knows designer clothes are beside the point.

Like Justine.

He shook his head.  Not again. He’d been thinking about her nonstop since his ridiculous idea to kiss her. 
What a cretin he was!

Archer thought of those videos of sharks in the water going after a big hunk of meat dangling on a hook. Just a bunch of eating machines powerless at the smell of blood in the water. 

What was he, a caveman? Mmm, beautiful woman. Must kiss.

He laughed.

Get it together, pal.

The charcoal pencil flew under his hand and he kept stripping away from his design until it was not only clear on the paper, but more importantly, vivid in his mind.  He put the pencil down and stood, stretching.

Maybe it was time for another long outing in the kayak, to clear his head and–

His phone rang.  He considered letting it go to voicemail, but decided to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Thorpe?”

“Yes.”

“This is Taye from Passion Key Resort. I was just wondering where to send payment for your services.  I don’t have an address on file for you.”

“Sure, it’s–”

His mouth snapped shut.  And before he knew it, he wasn’t talking about his address.

“If the check is ready, I’m going to be going right past the resort so I can just pop in and save you the cost of a stamp.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. “That’s fine. I’ve got the check right here.”

“Great, I’ll be by in an hour or so.”

“See you then!” she said, and Archer heard the call disconnect.  He put the phone down and walked into his bedroom, stripped, and hopped into the shower.  When he was done, he toweled himself off and put on a pair of salmon colored shorts along with a form-fitting white silk T-shirt and his favorite pair of topsiders.

It was a beautiful day, already very warm and humid as he walked over to Passion Key Resort.  The wind was mild but steady, and he couldn’t help but feel his excitement toward possibly seeing Justine again. He decided he was going to apologize for his rash behavior, and try to convince her he wasn’t some oaf who kissed beautiful women every chance he got.

Hopefully she wasn’t offended, and as much as he was sure it was just his imagination, he wondered if he hadn’t felt her kissing him back, just a little?

One could hope, he figured.

He walked across the main road and down to the resort to the reception office and went inside.

The woman he talked to on the phone glanced out from the little office behind the desk and she walked out to greet him.

“Hello,” she said.

“I’m Archer Thorpe, we talked a little bit ago,” he said.

“Oh, yes, I have your check right here,” she said, and handed him an envelope and then glanced over his shoulder.

“Hi Justine!” she said.

Archer turned and looked into the surprised face of Justine Beaudry.

“Hello,” he said.

“Archer, what are you doing here?” she said.

“Taye called and said my check was ready so I figured I’d better pop right over as I’ve got bill collectors lined up waiting to break my kneecaps,” he said.

She laughed.
They probably work for my ex-husband,
she thought, but kept the comment to herself.

“Well you did a fine job, everything works just fine,” she said. “It was money well spent.”

“How’s your leg?” he asked.

“Fine. How about I walk you out?” she said.

They walked outside and Archer again felt more comfortable with Justine than he’d felt with any woman in a long, long time. He had the sudden urge to grab her hand but he stopped himself.  No more sudden moves with this one, he thought.

“Have you ever gotten a proper tour of the place?” Justine asked.

“No, just what I fixed, and not much else,” he answered.  “I’d love a tour.”

Justine led him out to the courtyard, and around the pool area.

“It’s such a great location,” Archer said.  It was hard to make conversation with a woman who didn’t seem to want to talk about herself.

“I know, I love it, with the beach right there, although I might stay away for awhile and let the jellyfish go on their way,” she said.

“You probably don’t have much work to do on the place, do you?” he said. “It seems to be newer construction.”

“No, I don’t think there’s a lot to do, other than general maintenance and upkeep. But that’s why I have Taye, to take care of the day-to-day stuff.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re probably wondering what I do all day,” she said.

“No, not at all.  You said you sold your business back in the Midwest, right? Sounds like you’ve earned the right to delegate for awhile.”

She nodded. “I like the sound of that.”

They walked the grounds and then ended up in front of a condo that was set off from the others and consequently much more private.

“This is my place,” she said. “Do you want to come in for some iced tea? I just made it and I’m thirsty.”

“Sure.” Archer felt himself start to sweat. He didn’t want to do something stupid again.  Control yourself, man.

But he couldn’t stop watching Justine as she walked ahead of him into the kitchen. Her shorts were snug and her body looked fantastic. She was so sexy it was killing him.

She handed him a glass of iced tea and their fingers touched.

“Here’s to Passion Key,” she said and they clinked glasses.

Archer took a long drink of his and it tasted great.

He watched as Justine put her glass down, stepped up to him and kissed him full on the lips.  He was so surprised he set down his glass a little too forcefully and some tea sloshed onto his hand.

Justine giggled and he kissed her back.  Her lips tasted like sweet tea and he felt her breath hot on his mouth.

“I’m sorry I ran out, I guess I was just shocked,” she said.  “I’m not really looking for–”

Archer kissed her before she could finish the thought.

This time there was no mistake.  She kissed him back, and her tongue probed his mouth.  Her hands were all over him and he responded in kind.  Archer pressed his body against hers, felt the mounds of her breasts pressing against his chest, his hardness straining against her.

They moved from the kitchen and Archer’s head was swimming. His arms were around her, caressing her body and he felt her hands in his hair, stroking him and then she was pulling him to a bedroom, her hands inside his shirt, stroking his chest.

They collapsed on the bed together, clothes flying off them and then Archer felt the heat of Justine and he lost himself in it.  Her body was smooth and elegant, a sculpture of perfection and he kissed every inch of her, his tongue exploring everywhere.

Archer felt himself taken away as she returned the favor, his body moving rhythmically along with Justine’s and soon he hear the crashing of waves that had nothing to do with the ocean.