by J. E. Taylor
The freedom she thought she had—just a sham. And now this. Mr. Perfect crouched next to her gazing at her with his beautiful emerald eyes.
“Ex?”
Lynn nodded. “It didn’t end well.” Her voice cracked.
A chuckle erupted and brought the dimples back in full force. “I would have never guessed.”
Lynn felt the first hint of humor’s edge. “I’m sure.”
A crease appeared between his eyebrows. He studied her and then his smile spread. “Lynn—Lynn Spoffard, right?”
She blinked and tilted her head. How does he know my name? “Yes, how—”
“I know your folks.” He took a seat in the sand next to her without any more of an explanation.
“How do you know them?” Caution bells rang in her head.
“I did some repair work on their cottage last summer.”
“Oh.” Her eyes dropped to his smooth hands and back to his candid eyes. “But that still doesn’t explain how you know my name.”
“Your father mentioned your name.”
“Oh.”
“They’ve got quite a few pictures of you hanging around.”
She glanced at the ocean, shying away from his overwhelming presence. “Yeah, too many.”
“They’re certainly proud of you.”
She rolled her eyes. Her accomplishments over the last couple years were tempered by her biggest mistake: Bryan. Neither of her parents approved of him; both said he was volatile and they were afraid he might get violent.
Understatement of the year.
She shifted on the blanket, uncomfortable under his direct stare.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved her hand.
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
Speechless, she could think of a thousand things he could do to make it up, but none of them left her lips. “That’s not necessary.”
“At least let me buy you dinner.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Jim Murray.” He extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Lynn stared at his hand and reached out to shake it. His grip was strong and sure, and she wondered why she wasn’t repelled by the slick warmness of his palm; instead, it fanned the flames licking her belly.
“So, how about dinner tonight?”
“Don’t you need to get back to your game?” Lynn glanced in the direction of the volleyball court.
“Not necessarily. They’ve got enough players to cover me. Besides I think my presence here will keep that asshole from returning.”
She glanced back at Jim. Her smile faded at the mention of Bryan.
“So, dinner at six?”
“I don’t know.”
“I promise, I won’t bite.”
His dimples belied his words and she could envision him nipping on her bare skin; she could see his lips, his teeth as they traveled over her and created a fire she was helpless to escape. Her heart throbbed, beating a mating call in her chest, and when she didn’t answer, he raised an eyebrow, silently daring her to say yes.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go to dinner with you tonight.”
He nodded and glanced at her legs. “You’re starting to look a little burnt.”
Lynn inspected the pink tinge on the skin of her thighs. “I think it’s time to get out of the sun. Otherwise I’ll be a lobster tomorrow.” She folded her towel and dropped it, along with both her book and IPod in her beach bag. When her eyes met his, she debated on extending an invitation back to the house.
“Do you want me to make sure the coast is clear?” He waved toward the cottage.
She glanced over her shoulder and back. “I think I’ll be fine.”
“In that case, I’ll pick you up at six.” He headed toward the volleyball clan without so much as a glance back in her direction.
Lynn admired his form while she picked up and rolled the bamboo mat. She navigated the sand with a frantic hopping motion, impressed with the calm, nonchalant way he had walked over the burning hot particles. She slid inside the cottage, closed the door behind her, and wiped her feet on the doormat.
Halfway across the room, she stopped. “Oh shit.” She turned and looked out the glass slider. She had no clue what to wear to dinner and she didn’t see him on the beach anymore. In Miami, it could be anything from casual shorts to formal dress. She chuckled at the thought of her in her best dress and him arriving in board shorts and a t-shirt. She figured she’d play it safe; she pulled out a pink dress that could be construed as either dressy or casual and comfortable sandals to match, and set them on the chair for later.
The sun and the jet lag caught up with her. Lynn slipped a t-shirt over her head and flopped on the bed, setting the alarm for four thirty before she let sleep take her away.
The doorbell interrupted her dream and she panicked; adrenaline rushed through her veins and her eyes darted around frantically before landing on the clock. It was only four and she said a silent prayer before pulling on a bathrobe.
Dread gripped her as she approached the front door.
Damn it, Bryan must have figured out which cottage I’m in.
She glanced through the peephole and relief flooded through her. She rested her forehead on the door and calmed her racing pulse. The delivery woman smiled at her when she opened the door but Lynn just stared at the dozen roses. They were about as welcome as a dozen cottonmouths but she signed the slip and took the flowers anyway. She closed the door and glanced at the unknown handwriting on the envelope. It wasn’t Bryan’s, but this definitely was his MO.
If that bastard thought for one second she’d take him back, he had another think coming.
Without opening the card, she tossed the roses into the garbage under the sink and headed back to her bedroom to clean up for her date.
JIM ARRIVED PROMPTLY at six and Lynn swung the door open. His smile widened at the sight of the pretty pink spaghetti strap dress that accented her trim figure.
She wiped away a stray hair and waved him inside.
His gaze traveled around the cottage and then back to her. His smile faded, replaced by a crease between his eyebrows. “The florist never came?”
Lynn felt her eyes widen. “The roses were from you?” Her hand fluttered to her mouth and she rushed into the kitchen to yank the bouquet from the garbage can.
“Who else would they be from?” He stared at her.
She turned toward him, seeing multiple questions in his eyes. Questions like what the hell have I gotten myself into?
“Um, my ex,” she muttered. She turned back to the cabinets looking for a suitable container for the crumpled flowers and found a crystal vase in the cupboard. “I’m sorry.” When she turned, Jim had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his gray trousers and was biting the side of his lip.
Neither of them quite knew what to say.
She filled the vase with water. “Thank you for the roses.” She unwrapped the cellophane and arranged them in the vase. The card lay on the counter, unopened.
“What did he do to you?”
The question caught her off guard and she met his inquisitive gaze. “I, uh, I would rather not talk about it on our first date.” Heat flushed her face and she set her hands down on the counter so he couldn’t see the tremble in them. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
He shrugged, curiosity still ingrained in his features, but to his credit, he didn’t push the issue. “Okay.” He pointed to the card. “You don’t have to read that; it just says what you should wear.”
She reached for the card.
“Seriously, what you’re wearing is perfect.”
Her hand hovered over the card and she pulled it away. She walked out of the kitchen to join him in the living room. “You ready then?”
He gave a quick nod and a glance in the direction of the flowers before he escorted her out of the house and waited while
she locked the door. “I figured you’d appreciate knowing what to wear.”
Lynn smiled. “That was nice of you and the roses are lovely.” She turned her attention toward the car in the driveway: a 1959 powder blue convertible Corvette. “Wow, nice wheels.”
“Thanks.” Jim opened the passenger door for her.
“So what do you do?” she asked as they pulled out.
“Not a whole hell of a lot right at the moment. I’m taking the summer off before I start med school in the fall. You?”
“Same.”
“You’re a med student?” He raised his eyebrows and glanced in her direction.
She laughed. “No, I’m taking the summer off. I’ve got a job starting in September back home.”
“Where’s home?” He pulled into a charming restaurant on the fringe of town and shut off the engine.
A bass beat overtook the parking lot and Lynn turned toward the noise. A crowded dance club lined the opposite side of the street. “New York.” She turned her attention back to him.
“Ah.” He put his hand on the small of her back and led her into the restaurant.
The gesture—the contact of his hand on her body—sparked an unfamiliar heat between her legs, and she had to concentrate on what he was saying instead of just melting into the hot tar at his feet.
Both the dinner and the wine were superb, his sense of humor sharp as a scalpel, his laughter musical, and the conversation flowed much easier than with anyone else. This date had all the trappings of something she could get used to.
“Would you like to go dancing?” He waved toward the club. “Or walk on the beach?”
The thought of being embraced in those strong arms clinched the decision. “I’d love to go dancing.” He took her hand and they crossed the street after a quick glance in both directions.
Jim guided her onto the dance floor; a slow song drifted on the steamy air and cleared most of the patrons away. He wrapped his arms around her and led her gracefully around the floor. His breath tickled her ear as he sang the words to “We’ve Got Tonight.” His voice, like the wine, warmed her soul and she closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in his sound and musky scent.
They danced until well past midnight, breaking out of the dance club to a clear, star-filled sky. His hand clasped hers and they crossed the road to his car; they drove in a comfortable silence back to her cottage.
“Thank you for tonight,” Lynn said as they climbed the steps to her porch.
“Can I come in?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” She looked up into his green eyes.
Doubt shimmered on his face and pulled the corners of his smile down. “Okay.” He shifted his weight. “Can I see you again?”
“I’d like that.”
His eyes sparkled with the smile that formed and he leaned in. He pressed his lips gently to hers and drew back a fraction to read her eyes. “You sure I can’t come in?”
Lynn pulled away, not knowing how to answer him. She wasn’t ready for a one-night stand. “I’m, um...” She tried to ignore the fire building inside her. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her life was already complicated enough.
“Is it me?”
“I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Are you so sure it would be?” This time when he kissed her, he pulled her close and let the kiss deepen into a smoldering passion that left them breathless.
The moment his lips touched hers, she wanted to take back the answer and let him come inside. To hell with the complications, to hell with her moral compass. She wanted Jim Murray. She burned for him. Her heart hammered crave-fueled blood to every pore of her body where it boiled to hot lava that pulsed its way over her skin.
He broke the kiss and stepped back, flushed and smiling. “Good night, Lynn.” His voice dripped with wanting, husky from resisting his desire. His eyes scanned her once before locking with hers again.
“Good night, Jim,” she forced herself to reply. She slipped the keys into the lock and slid into the cottage before she could extend the invitation locked within her lips. She leaned her back against the hard wood and listened for his footfalls. He shuffled on the porch and then walked down the steps and onto the gravel path to the driveway. He must have hesitated because a few seconds went by before she heard the car door open and close and the engine start. Lynn exhaled slowly, fanning herself with her hand. His tongue had done magical things in her mouth and she imagined what kind of magic it could do to her body. A sweet wetness dampened her panties and she let out a small laugh.
The light next to the couch switched on and all the heat in her veins turned to arctic ice.
Bryan crossed the distance while she fumbled with the doorknob. His hand slammed the opening door closed. “Slut,” he growled and backhanded her.
Lynn stumbled and lost her balance, sitting hard on the floor as he towered over her. She scrambled to her feet, shrinking away from him before pointing a shaky finger toward the door. “Get out!”
“Did you sleep with him?” He blocked any escape path by planting his arms on either side of her.
“No! Now get the hell out of my house!”
He slammed her back to the wall. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care what you believe. I broke up with you, remember?” Her voice carried the hysteria thrumming through her. She hadn’t gotten out of his apartment unscathed that day, either. No, Bryan dragged her kicking and screaming into his bedroom and took what he thought he was entitled to. He had the same level of fury in his eyes now and she felt her bladder tighten.
The wood around the doorknob splintered and the front door flew open. Jim stormed inside. The fury in his eyes matched Bryan’s and before he could react, Jim crossed the distance, yanked him off her and tossed him across the room. The lamp and pictures on the side table scattered, knocked over by Bryan’s flailing arm. Shattered glass spilled across the floor.
“She told you to leave her alone.” Jim positioned himself in front of her.
Lynn folded her arms over her chest and shrunk into the wall. Fear and embarrassment fought for dominance: one icing her blood, the other heating her cheeks.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Bryan got to his feet.
“A friend of the family.” Jim shifted. His stance was deceptively calm—his arms hung loose by his side but his hands...his hands clenched and unclenched, giving away the storm that brewed inside. “I suggest you leave before you get hurt.”
Bryan laughed. His high pitched cackle produced goose bumps all over Lynn’s already shaking form. She couldn’t see him, but she could imagine his predatory gait as he approached Jim.
A metallic click filled the room.
“You really don’t want to try that,” Jim said.
The edge to his voice made Lynn peek around him. Bryan held a long, sharp switchblade in his hand and his eyes screamed murder.
She screamed, “Bryan don’t!” at the same moment he lunged.
Jim parried, twisted Bryan’s wrist and knocked the blade out of his hand. He jabbed the heel of his palm into Bryan’s forearm and a snap followed by his shriek of pain echoed in the small cottage. Jim swung him around and pinned him to the wall. “I’m going to step back and you’re going to hightail it out of this house. If you don’t, I’m going to break something else. Understand?”
Bryan nodded and held his broken arm to his chest. His breath was harsh hisses of pain.
Jim stepped back and Bryan glanced in the direction of the discarded knife before he brought his gaze to Lynn. He pressed his lips together and his eyes narrowed. The promise of finishing what he started reflected in his irises.
Jim cleared his throat and Bryan scurried out of the cottage. He closed the broken door and turned his attention to Lynn. “You might want to call the police.”
Her chin started to tremble, and she clamped her teeth together against the flood of tears and tremors itching to surface. Instead,
she nodded and stepped around the glass to reach for the phone. “How’d you know he was here?”
“I saw him turn the light on when I was pulling out of the driveway.”
Her hand shot to her mouth, covering the sob.
He wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re safe now.”
“He’s gonna come back.”
“You won’t be here.”
She pulled away and looked up into his bright green eyes, questioning him silently.
“Call the police.”
Dialing 911, she relayed the last few minutes to the dispatcher and hung up. “They’ll be here in a few minutes and they said not to touch anything.”
He nodded and moved her toward the kitchen, away from the living room and any evidence that Bryan may have left.
“What’d you mean I won’t be here?”
“As soon as you give a statement, I’m taking you to my place.”
Lynn raised her eyebrows.
“I think you’re right. He’s gonna come back and I’d just as soon you not be here when that happens.”
As soon as the police left, she packed her suitcase and glanced around the little cottage. “My parents are going to be pissed.” She waved at the empty table, the lamp, and picture frames already thrown in the garbage. All traces of broken glass had been swept away.
“Lamps and frames can be replaced. You can’t be.”
She offered a hint of a smile and set her suitcase on the floor. The locksmith already came and went, repairing the front door and giving her a new key.
Jim picked up her suitcase, led her out the front door and waited while she locked up. He nodded at the plainclothes cop parked across the street and dropped the suitcase in the trunk before sliding behind the wheel.
Silence blanketed the car while he drove to the other side of town, where his cabana lined one of the inlets. He pulled into the garage and turned off the ignition before turning in her direction.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She laughed. The honest concern in his eyes brought back the emotions she felt on the front porch before this nightmare took hold. “Yeah, I’m sure. What about you? You’re the one he wanted to shish-kabob.”
