Wrapped Up In You (A Mystic Island Christmas)

by Stephanie Rowe

  "Oh." She looked so crestfallen, he actually laughed.

  "So, since you won't take my coat, how about we negotiate?" He raised his arm, making space for her to tuck herself against him inside his heavy coat. "Compromise?"

  She glanced at him, biting her lip with apparent trepidation. Then the boat pitched again, and she started to slide across the deck away from him. She immediately lunged for him. He caught her arm and helped her get back to him. She nestled up against his side, and he wrapped his coat around them both, locking Kate against him.

  She scooted closer, burying her trembling body in his heat. She said nothing as she wedged herself against him, wrapping her fingers around the edge of his coat to pull it even more tightly around her. Neither of them commented, but the intimacy of the situation was visceral and intense. He tightened his arm around her, pulling her even closer against him. She snuggled herself against him even more, her shoulders wedged under his arm. When she sighed and leaned her head against his chest, surrendering to the situation, rightness roared through him. He didn't know her, but at the same time, he knew her, and he wanted her right where she was.

  She was so vulnerable, awakening a long-buried need to protect, one that he hadn't acknowledged in a long time.

  He didn't want to be that guy again.

  He didn't want to be headed toward that island.

  He didn't want to revisit the past he'd left behind.

  But as Kate snuggled more tightly against his side, he realized that he did want one thing: to be right there, in the storm, away from the heated lounge, with a woman who had awakened a primal part of him that he'd forgotten existed, the part that made him feel like he was alive again, the part that made him care.

  Chapter 2

  COLE CHARBONNEAU WAS dangerous.

  There was no doubt in Willow Morgan's mind that the man she was tucked up against could wreck everything for her. He'd looked at her with far too much shrewdness, and he clearly knew she'd lied about her name.

  But he was less of a threat than the lounge full of strangers below deck, all of whom clearly believed that a solo woman on the Mystic Island ferry a week before Christmas was in dire need of having her holiday improved. Less than three minutes after she'd walked into the ferry lounge, she'd had an eggnog in her hand and three inquisitive new best friends wanting to know why on earth she was planning to spend Christmas by herself, on an island where she didn't know a soul.

  That kind of social connection was exactly what she'd come here for…and yet it had threatened everything that mattered to her. They would ask questions she didn't want to answer, questions that would make it too easy for them to figure out who she was…and then her trip would fail.

  Willow couldn't afford to have it fail. This trip was her last chance to feel like she could breathe again. She'd panicked and fled...and wound up in the arms of a stranger who was dangerous, sexy, and burdened with a past as dark as hers.

  Yes, sure, she was being reckless for staying out on the deck in the storm.

  She was probably being naive and foolish to hunker down with some guy she didn't know.

  But, quite frankly, she didn't care whether she should be out there or not.

  She liked being so cold it felt like her insides were going to splinter into a thousand pieces.

  She liked being terrified each time the ferry crashed down the side of another wave.

  And she really liked burying herself against Cole, letting his strength and warmth wrap around her like an impenetrable shield that would protect her from the risk of hypothermia or drowning.

  Being in the blustery air with Cole felt good, not because she was a bold risk-taker, because she wasn't. It was because this moment, this coldness, the wind, the fear, and the comfort of his warmth made her feel alive. She was so scared, so cold, and so touched by his support that there was simply no way to stay dead inside, and that was why she'd come to this island, by herself, for Christmas.

  She didn't want to feel dead anymore. She wanted to claw her way back to having her heart beat before it shut down forever. She'd tried everything to heal the cleaving wound in her heart, and nothing had worked. All she had left was a distant, faded memory of this island from when she was fifteen, the one moment in her life when she'd felt whole, loved, and happy. She was coming back here to try to find that place once again, but this time for real. If she found it, she wasn't going to let it go again.

  "So, Kate, do you live on the island?" Cole asked. He was watching the approaching clouds, his dark eyes assessing as he inspected the sky. His voice was deceptively casual, belying the sharp intellect she already knew was there. He was still trying to figure her out, which made her edgy.

  She shifted restlessly. "Me? No. I thought you did." She'd thought the island was so small that everyone knew each other, but if Cole lived there, then why had he asked?

  "I used to. Not for a long time." The ferry rocked again, and he tightened his arm around her as she started to slide across the slick deck. He was firmly wedged between the two storage containers, but her legs weren't long enough to reach the second one and still have her back against the first. Without him as her anchor, there was no way she'd be able to sit there and not be tossed all over the deck.

  "You moved away?" She shifted restlessly, feeling awkward being so wrapped up with him. For heaven's sake, her breasts were practically in his lap. Sitting there silently while her body was smashed up against his was just…awkward. It was too intimate. She needed to create conversation, some sort of connection that would balance the situation out. "Why did you leave the island? Because of the person who died?" Willow grimaced when the question spilled out. She hadn't meant to bring it up. It was clear it was a memory that still hurt, one that he preferred not to address. She was all too familiar with painful memories that needed to be left behind. Excellent. She'd just made an awkward situation even more awkward. That took talent. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

  "It's okay." He ground his jaw, still staring across the sound. "She was part of the reason I left, but it was bigger than that. I just wanted out."

  She frowned at his answer. "I thought it was a wonderful place to live. Why did you want to leave? I've heard about the amazing Christmases they have here. When I was younger..." She paused, not wanting to give any hints that would reveal who she was. "I mean, I've heard people talk about this place. Christmas on the island is special." Was she wrong? That was why she'd come. She would be pretty much devastated if she got off the ferry and found herself stranded for a week in some depressing, worn-out, frigid pile of rocks in the Atlantic Ocean. When she'd come here before, as a fifteen-year-old, it had been summer, and the island had been packed with tourists. What if it was a ghost town in the winter?

  He glanced at her, one eyebrow quirking up. "You're here for Christmas? Alone?" He sounded surprised.

  She bit her lip and shrugged, stiffening, unable to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "Yes, so? Don't people come here for Christmas?"

  He smiled, and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. "That they do," he said. "Some people have been coming here for forty years. Every holiday is a big deal on Mystic Island, but Christmas is the biggest. Why are you coming?"

  "Because I want to see what it's like." She didn't really feel like going into the details with him. She didn't want to admit that she was hoping that finding the magic of Christmas would somehow heal her soul. She tried to direct the conversation away from herself and her reasons for coming to the island. "What about the other holidays? Is Mystic Island really magic?"

  "Magic?" He sighed, pulling his coat tighter around them. "Many dreams have come true on Mystic Island. Legend says that the island will claim certain people upon their arrival, and it won't let them leave until they find what they came for."

  Her heart skipped a beat, and hope rushed through her. She sat up and turned toward him, searching his face. "Is it true? Is that legend true? How does the island keep people from leaving?
How does it decide who to claim?"

  He looked over at her, his eyebrows going up. "The ferry comes only once a week during the winter," he said. "It's easy to have something go wrong. There was one man who couldn't leave the island for fifty years, according to the stories."

  "Really?" Her heart started to race. She wanted to be claimed by the island, to be held captive until her heart became whole again. "What did he come for?"

  "I don't know what he came for, but it was love that he got." His eyes seemed to darken as he looked at her. "The island claims people who need love."

  "Love?" she echoed, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "He got love?"

  He looked surprised. "That's the magic of the island. Love. Isn't that what you came for? Christmas love?"

  "No! Not love." Love. Disappointment surged through her. The last thing she wanted was love. Love was what had broken her. "I just wanted Christmas. You know, glittery lights, home cooked meals, Christmas carols. The spirit of Christmas."

  Cole was watching her intently. "You don't want love?"

  "No." She bit her lip, tearing her gaze off his to look across the water, hating the emptiness in her chest. She'd once believed in love. She'd fought for it, from her parents first, and then from others. "Love is not worth the effort. Ever."

  "Then you better hope the island doesn't claim you."

  She looked sharply at him, irritated by his insistence on love. "What about you?" she challenged, wanting the focus of the conversation off of herself and love. "What if it claims you?"

  He shrugged. "It can't claim me."

  "Why? Because you're native? Or because you're already in love?" The moment she asked the question, her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't even thought of that possibility. What if he had some adoring girlfriend? Or a wife? Oh, God. She sat up, pulling away from him, heat burning in her cheeks. How could she be pretzeled up with him if he was already involved with someone?

  "Me? In love?" He laughed softly. "No chance of that."

  "Oh." She relaxed again. "Then why can't the island claim you?"

  He tugged her closer, eliminating the space she'd just put between them. "Because I don't believe."

  She snuggled against him, letting his warmth and his scent wrap around her. It felt so right to be in his arms. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be held so securely, to feel safe in a man's embrace. "You don't believe in what? Love?"

  "Any of it. Love. Magic. Legends."

  "Love can be a terrible thing, but it's real. I believe in it. You don't even believe in love?" When he shook his head, she frowned. "But you're from here. You grew up here, right? Haven't you seen the magic of the island happen?"

  "I've seen people think they fall in love plenty of times." He took her hand and ran his fingers over her palm, sending chills down her spine. "But I don't believe the island made it happen, and I don't believe that love exists the way it's presented in fairytales and stories."

  "What do you believe in, then?" She was riveted by him, by this private, deep conversation in the middle of a storm with a stranger, talking about death, and love, and magic. She'd spent her entire life being judged, monitoring every word she spoke, knowing that nothing she said or did was ever private. But right now, with Cole, she felt like she was in a secret world, where confessions disappeared into the wind after they were spoken, giving her the freedom to just be, to just say, to just breathe. She watched him run his fingers over her palm, a casual intimacy that felt amazing.

  He looked over at her. "I don't believe in anything, anymore," he said quietly.

  The stark honesty and lack of emotion in his voice made her heart tighten. "That's what I'm scared of," she admitted. "I'm scared of becoming like that. I don't want to not believe in anything." She couldn't keep the fear out of her voice. "I feel like I'm dying inside, and I don't know how to stop it. I need the magic, Cole. I need the legend of Mystic Island to be true. That's why I'm here. It has to be true."

  He said nothing, his dark gaze searching hers. "I swear I know you," he said softly, lifting a hand to trail it along her jaw. "I remember those eyes. Your voice. It's like..." His finger traced across her skin, sending chills racing down her spine.

  She closed her eyes, drinking in the feel of his touch, so light, so sensual, it made her entire body long for more. He was dangerous and mysterious, strong and protective, so erotic that he made her want to embrace her femininity and allow it to flourish, instead of hiding it away.

  He moved closer, and she felt his breath against her ear. "Who are you, Kate Smith?" he asked, his voice sending chills down her spine. "Who are you, to me?"

  Willow shook her head. "No," she said. "Let me be Kate." She opened her eyes and caught her breath. His face was so close to hers that all he'd have to do was move an inch to kiss her. Adrenaline raced through her. He was so incredibly sexy, in the rough, rugged way of a man bound to the land, a man who lived with honor. "Kiss me," she said suddenly, the words bursting out before she'd even articulated them.

  His eyes widened, and she felt her cheeks heat up. "Oh, God," she said, pulling back. "I didn't mean to say that. I don't even know you." She scrambled out from under his arm and lunged to her feet, horrified. Was she that desperate to feel alive that she'd actually asked a complete stranger to kiss her just because he called to her in a way that she hadn't felt in so long? She hadn't felt this kind of connection to anyone for years. The last time she'd felt like this had been the only other time she'd been on the island. It had been only one night, one evening, but she'd never forgotten how she'd felt that night. That was why she was coming back…to find that moment that she'd failed to hold onto so long ago. She was not here to beg for kisses from a man she didn't even know. "Never mind—"

  Cole stood up, grabbing her wrist as she started to walk away. His dark eyes were burning into her, his jaw hard and angled. He was so male, so intense, so powerful, as if he were carrying the burdens of a thousand civilizations on his shoulders. Was this the man who had confessed his guilt over someone's death only minutes ago? Where was the vulnerability he'd let her see when he'd told her he didn't believe in love. Had she imagined it? She searched his face, looking past the rigidity of his jaw and the taut lines of his mouth, looking for the softness. She tried to imagine his mouth turning up in a smile, his eyes crinkling with laughter...

  Recognition suddenly flashed through her mind, and she froze. Dear heavens. She'd seen him smile before. She'd heard him laugh. She did know him. He was the boy, the boy from that night so many years ago when she'd been on the island. Her first kiss, in the moonlight, on the beach that had felt endless and beautiful. It was him. "Cole?" she whispered in shock. She'd forgotten his name. She'd forgotten what he looked like. All she'd remembered was how he'd made her feel. But it was him. She knew it was.

  "Kate." He whispered her fake name, the name she suddenly didn't want to be. Then he pulled her against him, his hand sliding up into her hair as he lowered his head. Her heart hammered when she realized what he was doing. He was giving her what she'd asked for. He was going to kiss her.

  Suddenly, all the stakes had changed. He wasn't a safe, random stranger in a storm. He was real, someone she knew, someone who had mattered to her so long ago. She grabbed his wrist, intending to stop him, but before she could, his lips touched hers, and he kissed her, sweeping her up into the most romantic, most seductive, most dangerous kiss of her life.

  She had no chance to stop him, or to keep herself from responding.

  Chapter 3

  HER MOUTH TASTED like the ocean air and freedom, mixed with the innocent sensuality of a woman who could bring him to his knees. Cole sank his fingers deeper into Kate's hair as he angled his head, tasting every inch of her lips. Salty. Sweet. Her lips were cold, but decadently soft, and her body felt incredible as she melted against him. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest, a wildly erotic sensation with the wind whipping around them and the ferry trying to toss them around.

 
; He backed her against the life preserver container, using his body to pin her against the hard plastic while he tunneled his hand through her hair, holding her where he wanted while he deepened the kiss. Her response was intoxicating. She was kissing him back as if she'd been waiting for his kiss her entire life. His cock rose hard and fast, straining against his jeans, needing her in a way he hadn't needed a woman in a long time.

  He didn't know what it was about Kate that got to him, but her hold on him was fierce and powerful. When she'd asked him to kiss her, he'd felt like she'd yanked his feet out from under him, leaving him struggling for balance. He hadn't bothered with women in a long time, not since he'd found his fiancée naked with the guy who had one more zero in his net worth than Cole did.

  Her infidelity hadn't surprised him, and he hadn't really cared one way or the other. He'd gotten the ring back, tossed it in his dresser, and gone back to the office. He simply hadn't cared about her, or anything, enough to have it bother him. But Kate was different. He barely knew her, but every inch of his soul was already craving her. He felt like fire was burning through his veins, searing every cell in his body.

  "Cole," she whispered his name as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him more tightly against her.

  Cole. The way she said his name made something turn over inside him, something that yearned for more. His entire being was responding to her, desperate for her, needing more than a kiss, needing more than one minute in a driving storm. With a low growl, he deepened the kiss. It quickly turned fiery when their tongues met, unabashed and needy—

  The boat pitched, knocking them both off balance. Cole swore and grabbed the edge of the container, barely keeping them upright. She clutched his arm, her brown eyes searching his.