Operation: Reunited

by Linda O. Johnston

  “I’m sure we are,” said a voice from the doorway. John walked in. He had dressed for their outing in one of his muscle-hugging white T-shirts that contrasted well with his longish, dark hair. Blue jeans rode low on his slim hips and outlined his thighs.

  Alexa hadn’t felt a bit of sexual attraction to Vane last night on the balcony. She’d once believed she would never feel lust again.

  But John brought it out. Oh, yes, he did.

  Maybe her plans for the day weren’t such a good idea. Sure, she hadn’t told Vane she wouldn’t leave the inn, only that she’d be here when he returned.

  But spending the day alone with a sexy stranger… Even if it didn’t directly defy her fiancé’s orders, he wouldn’t like it.

  Would Minos call Vane on the cell phone to report that she wasn’t there? Come looking for her?

  “I didn’t give you much notice,” she hedged to John. She had taken him aside when he’d appeared for breakfast that morning and issued an invitation. “If you have other plans, maybe we could do this another day.”

  “No, this is great. When I’m on vacation, I like to be flexible. And as I’ve told you before, I’ve wanted to take a boat ride around the lake. Can I help with anything?” John opened his arms toward the counter, where Alexa had piled the fixings for their picnic lunch. His muscles flexed at his motion, and Alexa tried not to stare.

  “No, thanks. I just need to wrap these things, then I’ll be ready.”

  Alexa had learned, with a lot of practice, to be efficient in the kitchen. Getting a picnic lunch assembled and wrapped was a piece of cake—figuratively and literally—for she had included a couple of slices of devil’s food cake she had baked for dessert that night.

  She had removed her ring and tucked it away before she left her room that morning. A picnic and a dip in the lake were too risky. She could lose it.

  She wanted to lose it. But not by accident.

  “Okay,” she said to John. “You can carry this—” She pointed to the traditional wicker basket she had filled.

  “My pleasure.” He grinned as he lifted it effortlessly. His dark eyes glinted as if the pleasure he anticipated involved an appetite that wasn’t for food.

  Heavens, Alexa thought, feeling warmth redden her face. She only hoped she hadn’t brought even more trouble on herself than she could handle.

  Last night’s rain had cleaned the sky. It glowed a brilliant blue, reflected in Skytop Lake. As a responsible boat owner and host, Alexa grabbed life vests and oars from the tiny boathouse on the land side of the dock. She guided Phantom aboard and showed John where to settle the picnic basket.

  The boat wasn’t huge, but it was large enough to have a tiny galley and a head below. Alexa loved it. She had christened it the Skytop Scalawag. Last summer, she had taken it out almost daily, sometimes with Vane and guests of the inn.

  But last summer seemed so long ago, long before Vane had shown his true colors.

  At the helm, Alexa turned the key. The boat’s inboard motor purred to life. John untied the lines that secured them to the dock. His lithe, substantial body moved with practiced grace, as if he had done this many times before.

  Maybe Alexa would learn where, get to know him better on their outing.

  And maybe she was being an idiot. This was only to be one enjoyable day, a relaxing interlude in a life fraught with tension.

  Perhaps this expedition was a venture in utter foolishness. She could think of a million reasons she shouldn’t be doing this, and only one reason she should—because she wanted to.

  It had been a long time since she had done anything just for fun.

  She carefully backed the Scalawag away from the dock, then headed west, intending to make a slow clockwise circle around the lake. John sat beside her in the passenger’s seat and Phantom lay at Alexa’s feet.

  “Tell me about Skytop Lake,” John said over the even hum of the engine. The ride was smooth on the placid water. A breeze slipped over the windshield and batted them.

  Alexa went into her tour-guide mode, explaining how this small body of water had formed naturally in the San Bernardino Mountains, unlike its more elite and well-known neighbor to the south, Lake Arrowhead. It was also less touristy than another, larger nearby lake, Big Bear. It was lined with homes, some occupied all year round, and others vacation getaways for people from the Los Angeles area. Surrounded by thickly forested slopes, it was one of the most picturesque places Alexa had ever seen.

  “You sound fond of Skytop,” John observed during a lull in her narration.

  “You could say that,” she said with a grin that fell as she turned away, ostensibly to check out a boat passing on their starboard side.

  She forbore to mention how she had fallen in love with it when she had visited just over two years ago—when she had come here with the only man she had ever loved, Cole Rappaport.

  Or how she had fled into the mountains after his death, after the near ruination of her family, only to find that the troubles of down below had followed her here.

  Along the shore, she pointed out older homes and some commercial and retail areas, including Skytop Lake Village.

  And then they reached the location she had planned for their picnic: Skytop Cove.

  The cove was a local park, its dock and picnic area maintained by tax dollars. Its small beach was cordoned off from boat traffic.

  Two other boats were tied to the dock. Once again, John helped with the ropes, after Alexa guided the Scalawag to a mooring. He went below for the basket, and Alexa, Phantom at her heels, staked out a picnic table.

  “So what’s our feast to be?” John asked as he helped lay a checkered cloth over the table.

  “I hope you like tuna salad and greens in pita bread,” Alexa replied.

  “I love it.”

  “How about homemade potato salad and fruit wedges? Oh, and devil’s food cake.”

  “I’m going to pay for this vacation by a month of extra workouts in the gym,” John said. The light breeze off the lake ruffled his hair, pushed his T-shirt more tightly against his all-male chest. Alexa wondered if she should have sat beside him instead of across from him. It was hard not to stare at such a delicious-looking man.

  She didn’t try to stop herself from looking at him.

  What was worse, he was blatantly staring at her, as well, his dark eyes shooting signals of sensual awareness. She should have felt uncomfortable. Instead, what she felt was overwhelming desire.

  Neither said much as they ate. A family with two children occupied another table. At first Alexa wasn’t sure who belonged to the dock’s other boat, for she didn’t see anyone else. But in a short while, two jovially chatting couples in outdoor gear appeared. They’d apparently been hiking along the trail that began at the end of the cove’s beach and led up onto the nearest forested mountain. All four got into the second boat and left.

  “Tell me about your home improvement business,” Alexa finally said, needing to start a simple and casual conversation to counter the complex sensations this man’s presence engendered. “You said you wanted to open a store?”

  “Right now, I’m just thinking about it. And I really like this place. In fact, I’ve contacted some friends in the business who are going to come up in a couple of days. If you’ve room for them at the Hideaway, that would be great. I want to show it off as a possible place for a future sales conference.”

  “Oh,” Alexa said. “I’ll check.” She knew she didn’t sound enthused, but she couldn’t promise anything.

  Maybe Vane’s guests would leave soon. She hoped.

  Except that she hated to think what they would be up to after they were gone.

  Out of the blue, John, his eyes steadily regarding hers, said, “If you were my fiancée, I doubt I’d like you to be off with some other guy, even as a tour guide. Does Vane mind?”

  Alexa blinked, unsure how to answer. She decided on the truth, or at least part of it. “Probably. But our engagement is sort of a trial. We
haven’t set a wedding date.”

  I haven’t agreed to one, Alexa told herself fiercely. But…two months. She shuddered.

  “Vane looked pretty certain last night.”

  Alexa stood. “I’ve eaten enough. Are you ready for a swim?” She didn’t like the direction of their conversation.

  “Sure.”

  She plucked up a couple of towels she had placed on the picnic bench and hurried toward the tiny beach, Phantom right beside her. There, she pulled off her knit top and jeans. Underneath, she had worn a one-piece bathing suit. She had purposely not worn her bikini. This one was much less suggestive.

  But she recalled how John kept studying her while she was fully dressed….

  She sped into the water. Phantom ran back and forth at the shore, barking.

  The water was cooler than the heated summer air of early afternoon. Alexa stood waist-deep on the sandy bottom and waited until she got used to the temperature.

  That gave her the opportunity to watch John peel off his jeans, revealing a snug swimsuit and powerful thigh muscles. Lord, the man was built! She supposed it was from doing home improvement work, as well as working out in the gym he’d mentioned.

  He didn’t take off his T-shirt. Maybe he sunburned easily, though she doubted it, with his dark hair and deep complexion. It didn’t matter. She got the idea of his physique even when he was fully dressed, and now he was partially unclad….

  This was a terrible idea, Alexa decided. Her temporary escape was only going to lead to more trouble.

  Or frustration.

  But he didn’t swim. Instead, he dunked himself in the water, wetting his hair, his body. His shirt plastered tightly to his sculptured chest. She found it impossible to avert her eyes as he stood in the water beside her.

  “If you ever want to get away for a while, Alexa, let me know,” he said solemnly. “And if you want to talk about anything, well, salesmen are good listeners as well as talkers.”

  He had offered his ear, his support, before. Obviously, she was not a good actress, for her sorrow must be showing.

  “Thanks,” she said simply. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “While you’re at it, keep this in mind, too.” He leaned toward her and pulled her close.

  She could have turned the situation into something light and playful by splashing him.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she allowed him to draw her against him in the cool water that seemed quickly to warm from their body heat.

  His damp chest pressed against her barely clothed body, and she felt the proof that he was as aroused as she.

  She wanted him to kiss her. Now.

  But John suddenly drew away, and she nearly crumpled. “Sorry,” he said lightly, although his chest heaved. “I got carried away.”

  She wasn’t sorry, though she should have been. Alexa sighed, as he pushed off from the sandy bottom and swam away.

  She heard childish voices from the picnic area and glanced guiltily in that direction. Fortunately, no one was looking toward her.

  She swam around in the cool water. After a little while, she emerged from the lake, dried herself and dressed. Only then did she call out, “John, I need to get back to start dinner. Can we go now?”

  He joined her on the beach.

  She talked softly to Phantom, without facing John. She didn’t look at his near-naked body, didn’t want to be affected by it again.

  Didn’t want to let him see how embarrassed she felt.

  But he knew, anyway. “Alexa,” he said softly, “I apologize again for touching you. You’re a beautiful woman, but you belong to someone else. I’m having a hard time remembering that, but I promise to respect it from now on.”

  Don’t respect it, she wanted to cry out. I don’t belong to Vane. I only belong to myself. Help me.

  Instead, she managed to smile at him. “It wasn’t your fault. I guess I’m getting cold feet about marriage.”

  The boat ride back to the Hideaway seemed to take forever, despite Alexa’s continued tour-guide chatter. And yet, when they arrived at the dock, Alexa felt they had gotten back much too soon.

  Once again, John helped with the mooring. Alexa led Phantom out of the boat. John went below for the basket.

  They stood beside one another on the dock for a moment. She wanted to say something airy and sophisticated. A cute parting shot to ease their discomfort with one another.

  She could think of nothing.

  “Thanks for a great day, Alexa,” John finally said. “You, too, Phantom.” They both bent at the same time to pet the dog—

  They were interrupted by a strange blasting noise. “Damn! Alexa, get down!” John shouted.

  Part of the dock splintered beside her. She felt herself being shoved toward the ground and propelled by John’s large, forceful body into the shelter of the tiny boathouse.

  Stunned, the breath knocked out of her, she wound up lying on her back in the shadowed interior, John’s full, substantial weight on top of her. “Alexa, are you all right? Alexa? Are you hit? Talk to me.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered.

  That sound—it had been a gunshot. He had saved her life.

  “I can’t lose you,” he muttered. “Damn it, I can’t. You are the sky to me, Alexa. No matter what, you are still my sky.”

  She froze.

  His words. She recognized them. So long ago—

  With a sob, Alexa pulled back as much as she could, with his body still, unyielding, on hers. She tried, in the darkness of the boathouse, to see deep into eyes that were both familiar and unfamiliar.

  “Oh, my Lord,” she whispered hoarsely, tears cascading down her cheeks. “Cole.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Alexa! Are you all right?”

  The shout came from outside the boathouse. Quite possibly from the shooter, Cole thought, recognizing Vane’s voice.

  He leapt up, dragging Alexa with him. He plastered his back against the boathouse wall, pinned Alexa against it, too, with his outstretched arm.

  For this outing, Cole hadn’t brought his gun. It was too difficult to hide while wearing a T-shirt and swimsuit. He’d decided to risk being unarmed for the day.

  It could have been a fatal mistake, damn it. And not just for him.

  The boathouse door burst open. Vane stood backlighted in the doorway. But even in the shadows, Cole could see that his hands were empty. Cole relaxed, just a little. Alexa slipped from behind his arm.

  “Are you all right?” Vane demanded. He went to Alexa and took her hands.

  “I’m fine, Vane,” she said, though her voice wobbled. Vane hugged her against his side, and she seemed to welcome his support.

  She didn’t look at Cole.

  “What are you doing back here so early?” she asked her fiancé.

  “We finished what we needed to do faster than anticipated.”

  “Did you see anyone else outside?” Cole demanded.

  “No.” Vane sounded angry. “I heard the shot but couldn’t tell where it came from. If I’d seen the shooter, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be after him.”

  Unarmed?

  But he wore a sports jacket again today. There were any number of places he could hide a weapon beneath its loose folds.

  “We’d better go call the police,” Cole said. He forced himself to rein in all his habitual take-charge, investigative instincts. To Vane, he was still John O’Rourke, home improvements salesman.

  Maybe he could still convince Alexa—

  Not likely. She darted him a glare that spoke volumes, then allowed Vane to help her out of the boathouse.

  Cole followed. He automatically checked out their surroundings. No boats were close by on the lake. Nearby docks were empty, as were the vast, sloped yards that were all separated by hedges up to the path that meandered along the edge of the lake.

  The sound had apparently carried, or maybe their quick reaction had been seen at the dock. Several concerned neighbors were running toward them along the la
keside path, including the woman who’d been at the grocery store when Cole had run into Alexa.

  Cole squinted in the bright sunlight, scanning windows of nearby houses that weren’t obscured by vegetation. Some windows were open, but he saw no movement behind any. He couldn’t see the street, nor could he see any motion aside from swaying branches on the trees covering the surrounding mountainsides.

  If any of the people converging on them was the shooter, Cole wouldn’t be able to tell without interrogation or inspection. Or at all, since he would blow his cover if he attempted to investigate.

  To the extent it wasn’t blown already. He’d never be able to convince Alexa now that he wasn’t Cole.

  He didn’t intend even to try.

  That meant Vane would know, too.

  Cole had to talk to Alexa first. He couldn’t trust her, of all people, with the truth—or at least, not all of it. But maybe he could convince her it was in her own best interests to cooperate with him and not to tell her fiancé.

  She bent to hug Phantom. The dog was evidently all right, for he was still standing and wriggling at his owner’s attention. Vane stooped at the edge of the dock, examining the area where the bullet had splintered the wood.

  “Hadn’t you better wait till the police check that out?” Cole asked. At Vane’s glare, he shrugged and grinned. “I’m an addict of TV police shows. I know not to disturb a crime scene before it’s been investigated.”

  “Right,” Vane growled.

  One of the neighbors, a white-haired man with a large silver belt buckle emphasizing his paunch, pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call 9-1-1,” he said.

  There wasn’t much Cole could do while they waited for the authorities. Alexa ignored him. Vane made light of the incident, pointing frequently to the nearest mountainside. “I don’t see him,” he said, “but I’ll bet twenty bucks that there’s a red-faced, butterfingered illegal hunter up there somewhere.”

  When the police finally arrived, they acted quickly and efficiently. They took statements, extracted the bullet from the dock and checked the area. They promised to contact the victims as soon as they had something to report. They didn’t allow anyone to see the bullet, so Cole couldn’t tell what kind of firearm it had come from.