Passions in the North Country (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

Then, in a moment of glorious relief, as when a soul lost at sea is spotted by a search plane, she realized this vehicle was a pickup truck. A huge weight dissolved off her chest. Suddenly it didn’t seem so dark and isolated anymore. Her initial resolve returned and she was convinced she had made the right decision in fleeing to Nova Scotia.

Jenny wildly flailed her arms to attract the occupants’ attention—
no way was she going to let them pass. Headlights flashed over her and the truck slowed. She could not make out who was inside, though it was obvious she had been seen. But the truck drove past without stopping. Jenny shouted and again waved her arms in near panic. Finally, forty yards down the road, the brake lights came on and the truck pulled over to the shoulder. Jenny frantically ran toward the truck and noticed a small lamb looking at her from the boxedin back.

The driver turned on the interior light, rolled down the window, and looked back at her. An immediate and undeniable jolt of electricity surged through her body. She visibly trembled. And so did he. Jenny saw it, plainly and unmistakably. The spark between them was so obvious that for a moment they both seemed embarrassed.

The man before Jenny was handsome. Brutally handsome. As fine-looking a man as she had ever seen. He opened the door and stepped out, highly surprised to have encountered a woman under these circumstances. Over six feet tall, with an engaging face, he was the type of man women immediately notice. Wearing only a T-shirt and blue jeans, he was much bigger and more muscular than anyone she had ever dated, but there was something powerfully elemental and sexy about him…But then again, he was a man. One of them.

It started to pour and the gorgeous man gazed at her, his eyes locked, almost as if caught in a magic spell. He was literally unable to look away from Jenny, and she could not turn away from him, even though the rain rolled down her cheeks and the wind tossed her hair.

“Thank heavens you stopped!” Jenny cried breathlessly. “For a moment I thought you didn’t see me.”

The man said nothing and Jenny studied his features. It was hard to guess his age, but she thought midthirties. His unshaven visage had a rough, sullen expression, and Jenny couldn’t help but think how differently a man like him would feel if his car broke down. He would be annoyed, but not afraid. And now that he was there, Jenny wasn’t afraid either. She didn’t know the man, but because he had arrived in her time of need, she was grateful to him. He had a presence, something special—maybe authority, or self-confidence—whatever it was, it was that thing some men possess, the ability to inspire confidence, to seize control of a situation in a way which calms and comforts others around them, especially women.

This man had that quality in spades.

She stepped forward and peeked into the truck cab, wanting to be reassured by the sight of another woman, but the man was alone. Some of his clothes were draped over the seat. His big, soft sweater particularly caught her eye. It was made of blue wool and was so huge that she could have used it for a blanket. Lying behind the seat was a gun case and, next to it, a box of bullets. Jenny’s mind instantly started playing tricks on her and she was suddenly overwhelmed with the notion that this man had been hired by Ivan to kill her.

“What’s the problem?” the man asked shortly, obviously not the least concerned with her, except that he wanted to be free of her as soon as possible.

Jenny, numb with fright, replied timidly, “I…I got a flat.”

He smirked at her as they walked to her car. “You shouldn’t be traveling this old road unless you can take care of yourself.” He motioned toward the trunk. “I need the jack and spare.”

Jenny turned on her interior light and pulled the lever to pop her trunk. Though she had developed a strong distaste for the arrogant man, she decided to be friendly, at least until he fixed the flat. Then she could drive away and never see him again.

“I was heading to Newbridge,” she said.

“There’s no sense in you standing out here and getting soaked. Go sit in my truck.”

She felt a powerful surge of pride. “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll stand right here.”

The man furrowed his brows. “Suit yourself, lady.”

“I will,” she replied instantly, and sharply.

He quickly changed the tire, tightened the lug nuts, and lowered the car. He glanced at her, then picked up the jack and flat tire.

“I can do that,” she said proudly.

He made a strange face as he relinquished the muddy jack and tire. Jenny found the tire heavy and awkward, but she carried it even though her clothes got smeared with mud. She put the tire down behind the car and took out her keys to open the trunk, but she dropped them. She glanced back and saw the man watching her, though he was futilely trying to turn away. Jenny knew her loose lime-green top, now soaked, lifted up and revealed her soft, pear-shaped bottom, accentuated by the black, stretchy pants that clung to her curves like a second skin. The man noticed. Really noticed. And she liked that. The man watched dispassionately as she bent over to pick them up.

His eyes were drawn to the soft contours of her bottom like a moth is drawn to light. Though he tried to turn away, his head snapped back like elastic. She was irresistible, impossibly sexy. He felt a stirring over which he had no control, as though a giant was awakening from prolonged sleep. It was uncomfortable. Unstoppable. He didn’t like it, but his eyes imprisoned him…and he was doing hard time.

Jenny drew the man with a language that has been unspoken for millennia, but a language that is universal and unending. Sex appeal, desire, fascination—call it what you will, it was happening right here, right now, and on a grand scale. Jenny had not even realized she was presenting herself to this stranger in such an erotic manner, but she could see by his eyes that he was drunk, drawn deep into dark, delicious realms. Normally she would have pulled away immediately, but she pretended not to notice his admiration. She deliberately took her time, moving her behind back and forth, its mystical properties as powerful to him as the hypnotic flute is to a cobra.

She finally straightened up, put away her things, and closed the trunk. When she turned to face him, he was weak and she knew she possessed great power with him.

“When you get to Newbridge,” the man said, almost angrily, “have that flat tire repaired or replaced. You can’t drive without a spare.” He turned to walk away. “Good
-
bye.”

“Good
-
bye,” she said. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Good
-
bye,” he said in such a way that it seemed he never wanted to see her again.

The man returned to his truck. As Jenny got into her car, she caught herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Yes, kiss him! This surly fellow, this man who stopped only because his conscience would not allow him to pass, this cold fish—yes, she had thoughts of kissing him. And not just any run-of-the-mill kiss either. She thought of kissing him with heat, with passion, with no inhibitions.

Then she snapped out of it. “What are you thinking, girl?” she muttered, shaking her head with disgust. She pursed her lips. “You really are totally sex starved!”

Jenny pulled out onto the road. The man waited for her to go first. Why, she didn’t know. It seemed inconceivable that he was concerned for her well
-
being and was making sure she reached Newbridge, but he followed at a distance, always keeping her in sight. As she drove in the rain, the man following her like a reluctant guardian angel, Jenny felt an odd sensation of joy. This world was so different. An elemental kind of place, but really quite beautiful. She had never seen the North Atlantic Ocean before, never heard the Canadian sea smashing against the ancient granite shores. Maybe things would work out after all.

Feeling upbeat, Jenny entered Newbridge and pulled into a gas station. She asked directions for the nearest lodgings. As the attendant started to explain her options, the truck drove past and the man looked at her. He quickly turned away, but she could tell he was determined to make sure she arrived safely. He didn’t have to say it—she could see it in his eyes. They were two ships passing in the night, and never again would their paths cross, but they had connected for a moment in time, and she would never forget the smell of the ocean, the wind, the rain, and, most of all, the gorgeous, fascinating man who had helped her.

I’ll never see you again, she thought.

“I just moved here,” the attendant told her, “so I’m not too familiar with the town, but there’s an old-fashioned hotel up on Captain’s Lane.”

Jenny liked the sound of the place, so she searched it out. She pulled into an impressive but neglected hotel that stood on a large parcel of land in the center of town. It contained a sprawling main building and was flanked with identical east and west wings. Even in the dark, Jenny noticed the grounds were poorly kept and the building was in desperate need of paint. Behind the hotel was a shed with several smashed windows. Beside it, obscured by a wall of vines and branches, sat a quaint, two-story cottage. A sign reading
The Captain’s House
was nailed on the wall.

The dwelling was enveloped in melancholy darkness, but a solitary streetlight cast an eerie glow on the upper
level window. Though Jenny had obviously never seen the house before, it seemed she had. In fact, the structure seemed intimately and unbelievably familiar to her. Struck by this thought, she suddenly noticed out of the corner of her eye that someone was holding aside a curtain and looking out from the upstairs window. To her utter astonishment, Jenny quickly realized it was a woman, and she was stark naked. Stark naked! Not a stitch on. The woman was her age, had long black hair and a very pretty face. Her figure was full and rounded. She had large, heavy breasts, the nipples clearly visible against her pale white skin, an hourglass shape, and, between her legs an unnaturally large shock of thick black hair.

Jenny felt incredibly embarrassed, knowing that at times she had emerged from a shower and folded back a curtain to peek out the window, obviously not expecting a stranger to be there. Just as she was about to turn away, hoping the stranger would not notice her, the woman looked right at her. Their eyes met. Locked.

To Jenny’s amazement, an electrical current tingled in her spine. The woman did not seem the least disconcerted that Jenny could see her nude body. She made no expression of discomfort and she stared hard into Jenny’s eyes. It seemed almost as if she was trying to say something, to impart a message of some kind, but then, like a ghost who suddenly fades into thin air, the woman let the curtain fall back across the window and stepped into the shadows.

“That was so weird,” Jenny murmured, hurrying up the walkway. “How bold she was!”

Jenny sighed and rounded the east wing. A faded sign—
Riverview Hotel—
hung crookedly from its post and creaked in the breeze. For some reason, the word
Hotel
had
Dump
carved under it with a penknife.

The backyard, illuminated by a spotlight, was a large, open area ideal for a garden, but now filled with rotten wood, pieces of rusted metal, and patches of brown earth choked by thick weeds. Jenny walked up the front steps and tentatively opened the office door. A gray-haired woman in her midsixties looked up. Her face instantly brightened.

“Yes,” she said, rising with an animated expression. “How can I help you, dear?”

Jenny smiled warmly at the friendly face. “I need a room.”

“You’re soaked!” the woman said. “What happened?”

“I had a flat tire.”

The woman seemed flustered, like an overzealous mother. “Let’s get you checked in so you can get out of those wet clothes. I don’t want you catching a death of a cold.” She took out her book. “What’s your name, dear?”

Jenny did not want to reveal her real last name. “Jenny…ah…Jenny Lamb,” she said. For some unknown reason the word
Lamb
popped into her head. “And you are?”

“Call me Miriam.” She stepped back and studied Jenny’s face. “My, what a pretty girl you are. But not many women wear bandannas like that anymore, dear. It hides your face so. Or is that the point?” Miriam laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to be mysterious.”

Jenny, embarrassed, looked at the floor.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Miriam said, noticing Jenny’s discomfort. “Forgive me. I was trying to be clever, but I’ve just been silly.” She smiled. “I’ve never seen you in Newbridge before, have I?”

“No,” Jenny mumbled, glancing at the elderly woman. She had felt safe in her disguise, like a rabbit wearing its white coat and huddled in the snow. “I’m just traveling.”

“On vacation are you, dear?”

“Actually, I’m thinking about finding a new job.”

“Really?” Miriam said, looking over her glasses. “What kind of job?”

“Well, I have degrees in restaurant and hotel management, plus five years experience as an assistant manager of a hotel.”

Miriam opened her eyes wide. “This is your lucky day! We’re looking for someone just like you here at our hotel. We have people to run the office, but what we really need is someone to promote the business. None of us have any skills like that.”

“What about the owner?”

“Oh, forgive me. I’m getting ahead of myself.” She plugged in a kettle and gave Jenny a key. “Room twelve. Go change your clothes, then come back here and we’ll have tea and talk.”

Jenny was pleased by the invitation. “Oh, I was just wondering. This room isn’t in the Captain’s House, is it?”

“Oh, no,” Miriam said. “There are no rooms for rent in the Captain’s House.”

“Someone lives there?”

“No,” Miriam answered with a puzzled look. “No one lives there. Why do you ask?”

“I thought I saw a woman standing in the window.”