Temptation Bay (A Windfall Island Novel)

by Anna Sullivan

  “Not having second thoughts.”

  “Not hardly.” She handed him a set of darts, stepped sideways until she stood next to Han Finley. “Maybe you should take a couple of practice throws,” she said to Dex, “so you can’t claim I had home field advantage.”

  “How about we just get on with it.” Dex glanced over, winged a dart at the board as his gaze shifted to her.

  Not a bull’s eye, triple twenty, the dart thunking into the narrow green strip on the twenty-point section, scoring Dex the largest possible amount of points for a single throw, since even a Bull’s Eye was only fifty.

  The small crowd that had formed roared, a couple of the men, including Zeke, shooting fists into the air.

  “So much for island loyalty,” Maggie said, and while Dex was setting up for his next shot, she grabbed Han’s arm and yanked. “Do not call me Cousin,” she said when his head dropped down next to hers.

  He rubbed his arm, grinned. “Sure thing, Cousin,” he said, just as the crowd roared again at Dex’s second triple twenty.

  Maggie met Dex’s triumphant grin with an appropriately snotty look, but as soon as he turned away, she glared up at Han. “I mean it, Han.”

  “I’ll hold my tongue, Maggie, but if my dad shows up—”

  She stopped listening, turned away from Dex because she knew her face had gone white. Asking Han to cover for her was one thing. Asking Emmett Finley—her Uncle Emmett—to pretend they weren’t related—well, she couldn’t hurt him like that. So, she’d have to find another way to keep Dex from finding out her mother had been born on Windfall Island, and that she’d kept it from him. At least until she could work up the nerve to tell him herself.

  Thankfully, Dex was busy winging his third dart home, and Maggie put some distance between herself and her cousin just as the dart thunked home. Triple twenty.

  “Hustler,” Maggie said, accompanied by catcalls and shouts of encouragement from the women gathered around. “I should have figured.”

  “So why didn’t you back out?”

  “It’s all for the cause, right? And there was only a drink on the line.”

  “Partly for the cause,” he corrected her. “You wouldn’t respect a man you could beat—at anything.”

  “I just recently learned the value of surrender,” she said, even as she threw her last two darts, both bull’s eyes, and lost. “Sometimes it’s the only way to really win.”

  “Uh,” Dex said, so delightfully flustered Maggie had to laugh.

  “We can discuss it later.”

  “We don’t have to talk,” Dex said. “You can just show me.”

  Maggie smiled, enjoying this new power she’d discovered. “So what are we drinking?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You won, I buy.”

  “But I pick the time.” Dex looked straight into her eyes. “And the place.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maggie was keeping her distance, Dex decided, and giving him a clear field to pick the brains of his newfound friends. He held up a hand to signal AJ for a round, figuring a beer would melt whatever ice he hadn’t already broken.

  “Ingratiating yourself, Mr. Keegan?”

  Dex jerked around, came face to face with Josiah Meeker, wearing his usual black suit and sour expression, but this time with a hard light in his eyes. “Just having dinner and a little entertainment,” Dex said, trying to figure out why Meeker was baiting him. He offered the darts. “You up for a game?”

  “Not with those.”

  Dex eased back a step, considered Meeker long enough to have the other man fidgeting before he said, “Care to enlighten me?”

  “Right after you give me the same consideration. Me and everyone else. Except Maggie, of course.”

  Dex went cold, every muscle in his body poised to attack. “She’d better not be a part of whatever game you’re talking about.”

  “You brought her into it by getting her to blackmail me—”

  “Careful,” Dex said softly.

  Meeker backed up until he ran into the wall. Dex followed him, staying right in his face. “If I’d had my way she wouldn’t have been the one coming to see you.”

  Meeker gave a rude snort. “You were perfectly happy to use her.”

  “Nobody uses Maggie,” Dex said. “But then, she made that clear to you, didn’t she?” He started to turn away, then it occurred to him that he was letting anger blind him to an opportunity. “This isn’t about Maggie, though. This is about the journals.”

  Meeker held up both hands. “I’m just curious, like everyone else,” he said with a grimace of a smile. “Including the Maslow Twins. If you’d come clean about why you’re here, they wouldn’t’ve trashed your room trying to find out.”

  “The Maslow twins. Is that the general opinion?”

  “They haven’t denied it. You’re probably lucky they didn’t find you in residence,” Meeker said, sounding like he’d have paid to watch.

  Dex would have preferred to be there himself. It would have been nice to put a name to the vandal—not to mention a motive. But asking questions never got him anywhere.

  He held up the darts. “Who’s next?”

  Helen elbowed her way through the throng, expertly balancing a tray crammed with long necks. “I’d think twice before I took him up on the invitation,” she said as she handed out bottles. “Maggie can and has kicked each of your asses at darts. Dex just kicked hers. No offense, Maggie.”

  Maggie toasted her with her beer, but her eyes moved from Dex to Meeker. Dex shook his head slightly at the question he saw there.

  “Even you boys can do the math. Besides, Dex already bought the round.”

  “In that case, let’s just play for fun.” Maggie took the darts, gave Dex one long, enigmatic look, then threw one. Triple twenty. The place erupted.

  Trust Maggie, Dex thought. She’d probably let him win.

  The rest of the crowd was already placing bets, turning the friendly game on its ear. Dex took his beer to the high table where one of the smugglers’ descendants sat, and held out his hand. “Dex Keegan.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Han Finley said in a broad New England accent. He kept his eyes on the game.

  Dex’s hopes took a sharp dive, then Han took his hand, introduced himself, and took the beer Dex handed him.

  “Folks around here call me Han,” he said.

  “Like Star Wars?”

  Han smiled slightly. “Yeah, never heard that one before. I’d expect a mainlander to be more creative.”

  “Should I ask if the force is with you? Where’s Chewie? Although a couple of these guys could qualify.”

  It took a second or two, then Han snorted out a laugh.

  Dex took a long pull from his beer, without really drinking. The point was to loosen up everyone else, not himself.

  Han, however, didn’t seem to be much of a talker. Dex’s eyes stayed on the dart game, which a quick glance showed him Maggie was winning. Then Han lifted his beer, the label flashing in the lights from the Wurlitzer.

  Dex looked at his own bottle and grinned. “This is a local brew, right? Windfall Gold.”

  “AJ likes to support island business. We all do.”

  “Nothing wrong with that, or this beer. I don’t imagine I could get it in Boston.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Maybe I could smuggle some in.”

  “Wouldn’t be a first.” Han’s mouth quirked up. “You could say Windfall has a rich history in exporting alcohol to the mainland.”

  Dex allowed himself a grin, but he kept it short of triumphant. “There’s a story there.”

  Han shook his head. “If you want the story, you have to talk to my granddad. He was just a kid during Prohibition, but he spent some time on the smuggler’s run with his old man, my great grandfather. He’d likely be here tonight, if he hadn’t been feeling poorly the last little while.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Dex murmured, and although he wanted to press Han for m
ore information, he let it go. It wouldn’t do to tip his hand now that he’d finally gotten a lead.

  “Maggie kicked Zeke’s ass,” Han said, “Like usual.”

  But when she would have settled at the high-top, Dex told Han it was nice shooting the breeze. Han lifted his beer in salute as Dex took Maggie’s elbow and steered her back to their table.

  And because he could feel her getting ready to wrench herself away, he leaned close and said, “Did Han Finley ever tell you about his grandfather running booze with his great grandfather?”

  “Emmett?” Maggie slid onto her chair. “He’s mentioned it.”

  “And you didn’t.”

  “I… He was just a kid. And he never finishes the story. I don’t think he can. I don’t think he remembers it anymore.”

  “But there’s nothing wrong with your memory.”

  “There is when you’re around,” she snapped, head down, picking at a rough spot on the table top with her fingernail.

  Dex hadn’t expected anger from her. And she wasn’t meeting his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “I guess I owe you another apology,” she said, her gaze bouncing off his. “Although if you think about it, it’s really your fault, since you’re the distraction.

  “And see?” she said before he could unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You want to talk to Emmett Finley, he just walked in the door.” She lifted a hand in greeting to an old man, stooped and wrinkled, the same old man Dex had seen her talking to before, in the corner booth in the back.

  Emmett returned her wave, but he took his sweet time making his way to their table.

  “Does he know everyone on the damn island?”

  “Yes, and he’s going to greet them all. He doesn’t know you’re in a hurry to close your case and get back to your life.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Dex said.

  “I never sell myself short,” Maggie shot back. “I’m a realist.”

  “And I’m not around for the long haul. But you don’t want me for the long haul. All you’re after is a nice meal and passable conversation.”

  “Passable?”

  Dex shrugged. “You’re not a talker. I get that.”

  Maggie sat back, the belligerent look on her face telling him she was spoiling for a fight. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to give her one if he could help it.

  “You didn’t come here to talk to me,” she said. “I’m a means to an end.”

  “There’s no reason we can’t enjoy each other’s company in the meantime.”

  “Why, because we’re having a relationship?” She glared at him, brilliant blue eyes narrowed, angry, and just a little… panicked? “We’re having sex. Sex is not a relationship. Being manipulated into helping you is not a relationship.”

  Sex? They’d been as intimate, physically, as two people could be, but the notion there might, even jokingly, be emotion involved sent her into a tailspin.

  Would it be so bad, Dex wanted to ask her, if they did more than scratch a mutual sexual itch together?

  The trouble was, he didn’t know the answer to that question. He just wished they could both just let go and enjoy it. And damn it, they ought to be able to hold a conversation, exchange small talk, share their day. But the only subject that felt comfortable was the case. He damn well wasn’t going to let her club him to death with it.

  “Fine,” he said, “Go ahead and tell everyone why I’m here.”

  Maggie sat back, clamped her mouth shut.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. And as for the sex, it’s nice to know you think I’m the kind of man who just jumps in the sack with every willing female I run across.”

  “So you’re having deep feelings for me?”

  Dex ran a hand back through his hair. “I thought we were getting to be friends, at least. Where it’s going is as much a puzzle to me as it is to you, but at least I’m willing to see the possibilities. And that scares the hell out of you. Why is that?”

  “There are no possibilities. You’re not staying.”

  “And if I did?” He gave it a beat, but she only looked away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You can’t trust. And don’t hang it on me again.”

  “Right, you didn’t start out by lying to me, and to everyone I know and love?”

  He blew out a breath, reaching for just a little more patience. All he found was weariness. “I’d suggest we take a step back, but you’ve never stepped forward.”

  “Until last night.”

  “But that was just sex.”

  Her gaze dropped, and when she looked up again what he saw there staggered him. Vulnerability, and misery. She was hurting, and he knew he bore some of the blame.

  Her name trembled on his lips, but his voice wasn’t the one that said her name.

  “Maggie!” Emmett Finley tottered his way to their table, finally, and when he stooped to kiss Maggie on the cheek, Dex swore he heard the man’s joints creak.

  “Emmett Finley, meet Dex Keegan,” Maggie said, her eyes, and the joy lighting them, all for Emmett.

  Emmett took the hand Dex offered him, but instead of shaking it, he steadied himself as he lowered slowly into the chair next to Dex’s.

  He sighed with gusto when his butt hit the seat. “It’s a hell of a thing,” he said, “when sitting takes as much out of you as standing.”

  “I was going to stop by tomorrow,” Maggie said, “but here you are. Have you eaten?”

  “I have,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “And you’re set for supplies, heating oil?”

  “For a time. Could use to have you look at my furnace. Don’t seem to be working quite right. Or maybe it’s just the cold settling into my old bones.”

  “I’ll send Mort over. He’s better at that sort of thing than I am.”

  “Appreciate it. So, Mr. Keegan—”

  “Dex.”

  “Dex, you sparking my girl?”

  The direct, mildly threatening expression on Emmett’s face had Dex leaning back in his chair, considering his answer carefully.

  “Don’t you dare talk about me like I’m not here,” Maggie said. “I take care of myself.”

  “It may be old-fashioned, but it’s the responsibility of your closest male relative to look after you, Maggie. Your father is a total failure, and since I think of you like a granddaughter—”

  AJ came over and set a thick slab of chocolate cake in front of each of them. Dex didn’t miss the look that passed between him and Maggie—or the way she changed the subject. But then, her father was a sore subject for Maggie, and AJ always seemed to have her back.

  “Nobody bakes like AJ,” she said, forking up a huge mouthful of cake and closing her eyes in bliss as it hit her taste buds.

  “Reminds me of my mother’s,” Emmett said. He took a bite with a palsied hand. “She loved to bake, and she had a way with cakes especially. Light as a feather they were.” He looked at Maggie, winked. “But AJ, you run a close second, son.”

  “I’m proud to run a close second to your mama, Emmett. She was one of a kind, that’s for sure.” And AJ took himself off to the bar.

  Emmett sighed wistfully. “She surely was, but my sister came close, God rest both their souls. You remember, Maggie.”

  “I didn’t have the good fortune to meet either one of them,” Maggie said. She reached over and covered Emmett’s hand. “Dex wants to hear about Prohibition.”

  Emmett seemed confused, his gaze shifting to Dex’s face.

  “Han said you used to help your father run illegal liquor to the mainland.”

  Emmett waved it off. “I was nothing but a kid then.”

  But kids heard and saw all sorts of things their parents thought they were oblivious to, and a boy with a strong back would have come in handy in situations where speed was invaluable and the more hands pressed into service the better.

  He could have sworn Emmett’s expression sharpened, but when he looked closer the old man’s eyes
were rheumy, focused on the past.

  “My da had a hand in lots of pies back then. Times were hard. Man has a family to support, he does what’s necessary.” He smiled cannily. “Can’t say I ever knew of anything strictly illegal, but I recollect the big ships moored off the coast, twelve miles out where the stupidity of the U of S government couldn’t touch them.”

  “Do you remember the night the Perdition exploded?”

  “Oh, aye.” He sighed. “Hell of a thing, it was. The ground fair shook with the explosion, flames and debris shot hundreds of feet into the air when that hold full of booze went up. You could smell the pitch all the way to shore, hear the crackle of the flames, the hiss of burning timbers hitting the water as they fell back down. Musta been what hell is like.” He trailed off, seemed to jolt back to the present. “Reminds me of the time we had a bonfire on the beach. You remember, Maggie.”

  “There’ve been lots of bonfires,” Maggie said. “Only one ship explosion.”

  But although Maggie tried, she never managed to steer Emmett back around to the story of the Perdition. If he’d joined in on any of those dead-of-night rum-running operations, he was keeping it to himself, or, more likely, the memories were long gone.

  Dex would have bet on the latter as he was regaled with the same story more than once over the next hour, and there were moments where Emmett simply trailed off into silence. Age, Dex figured, had taken as high a toll on Emmett’s mind as it had on his body. He listened carefully, though, asked questions, and filed the answers away. And he made a note to talk to Emmett again, earlier in the day when he’d be fresher.

  “Well,” Emmett said at last with a voice that had gone thin and wavery, “I’m for home.”

  “I’ll take you,” Maggie said, getting up so she could steady Emmett. But once he was on his feet, he shook off her attempts to take his arm.

  “Got to make a pit stop.”

  “Yeah, you’re on your own there.” Still, Maggie walked slowly behind him as he shuffled into the lobby. When Emmett detoured into the men’s room, Maggie pulled her jacket out of the little cloak room.

  “You want company?”