“Yes. Haven’t you heard about the things that go on there?”
“I have now.” His hand tightened on hers. “Just in time, it seems.”
“Well, believe it or not, I’d never heard about that. I would have had a different kind of slumber party there if I had.”
They reached the granite outcropping that extended, on a steady rise, a good fifty yards into the bay. A previous owner had carved stair steps into the slope and splashed cement onto them. Each step brought them more into the wind, making her hair swirl around her head. She should have worn her hat, but instead she pulled up her hood and tugged the laces tighter.
Twenty yards down, the ocean swelled against the base of the rocks, making swirling patterns of foam on the shoreline. Traces of seaweed and kelp marked the highest point of the tide, and spiked the air with a salty sea-creature smell.
She had to yell over the rising roar of the wind. “It’s like a different climate zone out here. The lighthouse catches all the wind. It’s kind of like being at sea without a boat.”
“It’s very dramatic,” he called back to her. “But it seems like an odd location so far from the harbor.”
She fumbled for the doorknob and pulled it open, fighting against the force of the wind. As soon as they stepped inside, the roar of the ocean and the wind subsided.
“What happened was…” She turned in a quick circle, making sure there were no creatures holed up in there. The space was empty and swept clean. Harris Badger, perhaps? It had the same tranquil timeless quality as ever. The only sign of her grandfather’s presence was his old short-wave radio, now silent and very outdated. “They built the lighthouse before the big earthquake that hit here about fifty years ago. This whole area dropped several feet in the quake. There used to be a busy port in this part of the bay, but most of those structures were destroyed. They never bothered to rebuild out here, and just consolidated around Lost Harbor, where the deep water is. This whole area was more or less abandoned, which is partly why my grandfather was able to buy so much land at a low price.”
Ian strolled around the edge of the spacious angled interior, which was filled with light from the six windows barely at eye level. Each glass panel offered a different view: a slice of the faraway harbor in one, the bay and a few anchored cargo ships in the next, nothing but ocean and mountains in another. Above, the vaulted ceiling disappeared into shadows no doubt filled with spiders.
Ian tested the floor with a sharp stomp. “Solid. I’m surprised the earthquake didn’t destroy it.”
“It was damaged. My grandfather had to fix the foundation. I think they talked about tearing it down, but never did. It’s a piece of history, just like Jeff was saying. I didn’t know it was naughty history, but,” she shrugged, “I’m not complaining. Everyone loves a local legend. Maybe it’ll add to the sale price.”
Ian turned to face her, his feet braced apart like a pirate in a ship. “So you are thinking about selling it?”
“Of course. I’m considering all options.” That sounded much more businesslike than “I’m all over the place,” which was more accurate.
He studied her with a serious look. “Were you offended that I invited Jeff here?”
“I wasn’t offended. I was—” She shrugged, still not sure how she’d felt. “I don’t want to rush it. He was so enthusiastic, I thought he might whip out a contract right then and there. Besides…” She closed her eyes, realizing that she had been offended.
“What?” Ian probed. “I want to know, so I don’t make the same mistake again.”
“It wasn’t a mistake. It’s just…” She opened her eyes to meet his directly. “Just how much of a mess do you think I am?”
“Excuse me?”
His startled expression nearly made her stop. But he’d asked if she was offended. If he couldn’t handle the answer, that would say a lot about him.
“Were you thinking I wasn’t capable of finding a real estate agent if I needed one? That maybe I’d just post a flyer with some handwritten phone numbers for people to rip off if they’re interested? Or maybe just get Toni to spread the word at the Olde Salt? ‘Historic hundred-acre property up for grabs, call the flaky runaway with the broken-down car.’”
Ian strode toward her and settled his hands on her upper arms in a firm grip. “Stop it. I’ve never thought you were flaky, at least not since I’ve gotten to know you. Of course you’re capable of finding a real estate agent and a thousand other things. You’re the one who says you’re a mess. You told me so at the hospital, and several other times.”
Energy crackled between them, but it wasn’t anger, despite his forceful words. It was something else, something that tugged a spark of arousal to life deep in her belly.
“What if I am a mess? What then?”
“Then maybe you have reason to be.”
She stared at him, dumbstruck by that simple statement. He didn’t even know all the reasons she was “a mess”—but yet he seemed to believe in her anyway.
He went on. “If you were such a mess, would you be hired to fly an air ambulance? You know how to frame a window. You can probably field dress a moose.”
“Of course I can.”
“I bet you can fix a carburetor.”
“As long as it’s from a car that predates this century, yes.” She couldn’t drag her gaze away from the intense green-black of his eyes.
“You can also calculate the gravitational pull of Jupiter, according to your grandfather’s journal. And you memorized all the parts of Much Ado About Nothing when you were eleven, then turned it into a musical comedy.”
“Shakespeare was my life for about four months that year. It’s the original rom-com, if you think about it. I can’t believe my grandfather put that in his journals.”
“He was really proud of you, in the moments when he wasn’t wrapped up in his own projects. Very few moments, I should say.”
“So you’ve read it?”
“I’ve started to. I’m curious about what kind of man raised a woman as fascinating as you. The impression I get is that you mostly raised yourself.”
This was a side of Ian she’d never seen before, but had always sensed might be there—a passionate, even stormy side. But not the kind of storm with gusts that rose and fell. If he were a storm, he’d have sustained winds that howled in the rafters all night long.
All night long.
The phrase gave her shivers.
What would Ian be like “all night long”?
The way his gaze was drilling down into her, as if he could reach inside and touch her at her very core, gave her a pretty good idea. Her knees were already melting into jelly and her skin felt like it was on fire.
“While I’m at it, I don’t like it when you denigrate yourself. In fact, I really dislike it.”
“Why…do you care?” she managed. “It’s just my way. You know I like to joke.”
“Maybe it is, but I still don’t like it. You’re a bright and beautiful woman and when you downplay yourself it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard to me. It makes me want to—” He clamped his mouth shut. The muscles of his jaw knotted.
She had no idea what he’d almost said, but by now she didn’t really care. No one in her entire life had ever called her out on her self-deprecating comments. Not Toni or Maya or Jessica. Not her grandfather, or her mother, or her ex-husband or her ex-business partner. It had always just been part of her personality.
But now that Ian had spoken up, she realized it was more than that. It was a way to relieve pressure, to lower expectations, to stay light instead of serious.
In short, to undercut herself.
And he didn’t like it, because—
The truth clicked into place. Because he valued her. He saw her and he valued her.
And damn, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing a man could possibly do, she’d eat Shuri’s new chew toy.
“Are you ready for your reward?” she asked softly as she took a step toward him.
> His eyes darkened and he seemed to be holding his breath. She inched forward until she was so close to him that her chest brushed against his. Her nipples immediately peaked, hard and bright as diamonds. She lifted her face to his and saw desire flood into his eyes.
She slowly moved her chest from side to side, rubbing her nipples against him. He looped his arms around her and tugged her closer against his hard chest. Now their groins were pressed together. Heat flooded her core and her thighs trembled with want.
Wind whistled through the cracks in the old windows. Something clattered somewhere in the structure; a loose board, a piece of trim, who knew. The distant hiss of the ocean on the rocks seemed to urge them on. Yessssss. Yesssss.
His hands dropped to her lower back and spread wide, his thumbs on her spine and his fingers on the upper curve of her ass. Oh yesssssss. Thank God, his touch wasn’t anything close to the awkwardness of his social interactions. Not one bit. He touched her with authority, as if he was in charge. As if this was his domain. As if he knew exactly what magic his hands were capable of.
The slow circling of his hands on her ass sent a happy buzz through her body. “I like how you touch me,” she murmured.
“That’s good, but please tell me if you don’t like something.”
Ian Finnegan, always so literal, and yet so endearing.
His thumbs glided across the tops of her hip bones and landed in front of them, in the excruciatingly sensitive divot between her thigh and her mound. She responded with an involuntary tremor that didn’t escape him. He adjusted the pressure until it didn’t feel like tickling anymore, but instead the most exquisite stimulation of her nerve endings.
How many nerve endings could she really even have in that particular spot? She didn’t know, but he probably did. And he seemed to be finding every single one of them.
Even though his thumbs were several inches away from her mound, every move he made sparked shocks of pleasure down there. She felt liquid spring to life between her legs. With a restless movement, she tried to bring her groin against his thigh, but he kept her where she was.
He was strong. Those hands of his were like iron, but his touch was deliberate and precise.
“Ian,” she muttered again, more urgently. “Please. Can you…just…move your hand a little lower down?”
“Hmmm.” He made a noise in his throat. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll think about it?” She pressed her nipples harder against him, needing pressure somewhere. “What’s there to think about? There’s a whole pussy down there just waiting for you.”
At the word “pussy,” she heard his breath grow rougher. Maybe she should just repeat it a few times. And throw in the word “cock” too. Maybe some graphic words would get him to move faster.
“I don’t like to rush things,” he was saying. Even so, his thumbs stretched lower, to the upper slope of her mound. Oh God. This was going to drive her crazy. “I like to be thorough. If I rush I might miss something important.”
“Important? We’re just making out. It’s not that important. It’s fun.”
“Important fun,” he corrected her, as he lowered his mouth to her throat.
She let her head fall back as he stroked her skin with his warm mouth. The occasional scrape of his teeth sent new shocks of pleasure through her body.
Damn. What had she gotten herself into?
Again she tried to twitch her hips closer to him, to find some hardness. A cock, a hipbone, a hand—anything would do. She was going to lose her mind if she didn’t find something. But that was silly, of course. She was being silly and giddy and shaky. As if this was the first time she’d ever made out with a guy.
She moaned as he dragged his tongue along the underside of her jaw. Another extra-sensitive spot. How did he know? It was a good thing he’d never guess that her earlobes were extra sensitive. All he had to do was press her earlobe a certain way and she would practically come right here in this dusty, abandoned space.
And there he went, nibbling along the shell of her ear, and she couldn’t—
She yanked her head out of his reach. His arms were still around her, but he raised his head in surprise. “Did that hurt? I was trying to be gentle.”
“It didn’t hurt. It felt amazing. What are we doing?”
“Um.” He blinked at her. “I’m sorry. I thought that was obvious. Do you need lessons in this part?”
A joke. Well played, Ian.
She smacked him lightly on the arm. “No.” Her heart was pounding, racing as fast as the waves on the rocks outside. “Very funny. I’m just…taking a breather. Taking stock. Are we doing this or are we doing this?”
He blinked again. “What would you like? To do this or to do this?”
“I want to do this. But you’re dancing around and I just want to know where this is heading. Put it this way. Are we fucking or are we just fucking around here?”
His dark eyes studied her. She’d probably shocked him with her frank language. Ian Finnegan wasn’t the type to talk that way. Not that she always did; only when the moment called for it. In this quivery, shivery state, she needed something solid. She needed clarity.
He turned away from her, running his hand across the back of his neck.
And it sank in with the weight of a stone. She’d ruined the moment, because of course she had. Chaotic Chrissie had struck again.
Twenty-Three
If ever Ian had needed the power of mind over body, it was now. He wrestled with his arousal, forcing it back down. He didn’t need his libido ruining things right now. He needed to be calm and cool and logical.
He fixed his gaze on a boat anchored in the middle of the bay. Dusk was closing in, turning the mountains into looming shadows. A light twinkled to life on the tip of the boat’s rigging, then another one inside the wheelhouse. It bobbed out there on the water, a brave solitary flag of life raised against the incoming darkness.
Focus achieved.
What had Chrissie asked him? Are we fucking or are we just fucking around out here? She’d thrown the question at him like an athlete hurling a javelin. And of course, being someone who liked answers to questions, he wanted to oblige her.
But another part of him—a part that had connected with Chrissie in a nonlogical way—told him she was up to something else. She was pushing him away. Daring him. Yes, that was what she was doing. She was daring him to treat this as if it was just “fucking,” or possibly “just fucking around.” To him, neither one applied. But would that just scare her away?
He’d never met someone as elusive as Chrissie.
But then again, she’d probably never met someone as focused as he was. He knew exactly how to answer her question.
He wheeled around, then stalked toward her. She didn’t resist when he snatched her against him and gathered her warm curves into his arms. He touched her all over, running his hands from her ass to her hips to her spine, feeling her body quiver under his strokes.
Then he kissed her as deeply and passionately as his primal side urged him to. He stroked his tongue deep inside her mouth, gathering up each sigh and quickened breath. Even though his own erection had sprung back to extreme hardness the second he put his hands on her, he ignored it. He focused all his attention on her. He catalogued every tremble, calculated the rate of her pulse, the speed of her heartbeat.
She wanted him. Badly. Same as he wanted her.
When she was moaning into his mouth, he pulled away and stepped back. He kept his hands on her shoulders, holding onto the connection between them. “I won’t just fuck you, Chrissie. That’s not what I want from you.”
“What…what are you…” Her look of dazed confusion satisfied him down to his bones.
“I want more. I want this, too.” He touched her upper chest, which technically wasn’t where her heart was located, but close enough.
“You want my sternum?” She was aiming for light and joking, but her dilated pupils told a different story, one he could r
ead perfectly well.
“You’re not going to put me off with jokes and the word ‘fucking.’ That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it? It’s not going to work. I do want you, Chrissie. I want you in my bed. I know I could make you happy. But I won’t pretend it doesn’t mean something. Because to me, it will.”
She brushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face. He’d made her face rosy like that. He’d gotten her turned on. It was a great feeling, one he wanted to experience again and again. But he was nothing if not disciplined. He could be patient.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
“I don’t get involved with women lightly. I never have.”
“You could…start.” Her suggestive smile raised his temperature another tempting notch.
“I don’t want to start. I told you from the very beginning that I want to find a true partner.”
“Yes, but—” She flung her arms wide. The wind whined at the windows, as if it was echoing her mood. “That’s not me. It can’t be. I’m probably not even going to be staying in Lost Harbor.”
“I understand,” he told her gently. And he did, more than she realized. He understood that she would resist like a hooked fish. Maybe she’d jump free, or maybe she’d choose to land in his lap. It was up to her.
But he wasn’t going to stop fishing—in his own way.
“We should go,” he added. “It’s getting dark and Shuri’s probably worried about us.”
She startled. “Shuri! Oh my God, I almost forgot about her. I hope she hasn’t shredded that poor chew toy to bits already.”
“I can get her another one.” He zipped up his jacket, which Chrissie had undone at some point. The air was chilling down in here; he could see his breath in plumes of steam.
“I’m more worried about your Mercedes. She probably made a mess back there.”
“That’s all right. I’m a lot less opposed to mess than you think.” He reached for that stray lock of her hair that kept falling in her face and gently smoothed it behind her ear. He cupped her face, her silky skin warm against his palm. With his thumb, he brushed her cheekbone. Her eyelids fluttered down, then back up again, as if she wanted to give in to his touch but also wanted to stay on guard.
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