by JoAnn Ross
And with that promise, he let himself out of the suite.
As she listened to the elevator cranking its way back down to the lobby, Meghann wondered how on earth he expected her to sleep after that exit line.
8
Although she wasn’t anywhere near the star level of Angelina Jolie or Taylor Swift, Meghann had been prepared for some public appearances. She and Adam had discussed possibilities during their drive down from Portland and one of the events during this holiday week she was looking forward to doing was speaking to students, not just about how to become a writer but about the importance of following their dreams.
Adam had spent time on the phone with Ginger Wells, principal of Shelter Bay High School. And with Mrs. Lessman, who’d been teaching AP English back when Meghann was in school. After that, he’d made a couple more calls to CCC. Before they’d gotten to Newberg an hour later, they’d arranged for her to appear to students from both schools the day after Christmas at the restored historical Art Deco Orcas Theater. Which was, Adam informed her, where Irish movie star Mary Joyce had once spoken.
Not sure she could live up to that billing, Meghann was looking forward to the Q-and-A part of the presentation, when she’d get to speak one-on-one with attendees. Adam had assured her that she’d fill every seat in the place, which she’d thought was overly optimistic.
Until she arrived at the dock for the parade and was bombarded by both adults and teens thrusting out books for her to sign.
Finally, when it looked as if she’d be single-handedly responsible for holding up the parade, she was happy to let Adam step in to tell everyone that she was needed on the boat and they’d have plenty of opportunities to talk with her and have her sign copies on the twenty-sixth at the Orcas Theater.
“Thank you,” she said as he helped her onto the white thirty-eight-foot Sea Wolf. “This is really nice.” She was surprised by how sleek and modern the boat had been fitted out. Although all the gauges and dials and other equipment pointed to it being a research vessel rather than a pleasure boat, the only thing she could see that differentiated it was the bunks rather than beds in the two sleeping staterooms.
“It’s a lot better than many research vessels,” he said. “And more compact. It’s part of the small boat fleet so we can get in and out of all the coves along the coast. It’s also been soundproofed so it can run silent, like Navy submarines.”
“So you don’t disturb the whales.” Having spent four years living in Shelter Bay, she’d learned how noise from boats not only stressed whales out but could seriously interfere with their ability to communicate.
“Got it in one. There aren’t that many boats as well tricked out as this one, but the guy who funds the institute has deep pockets.”
After undocking, he idled out to where the other vessels, from sea kayaks to a fishing boat were lining up, waiting for the habormaster’s signal. As three sharp blasts of an air horn came across the water, all of them turned on their lights.
“Oh!” Meghann felt six years old as the night lit up with a dazzling display of colored lights as varied as the boats and the owners themselves. “It’s wonderful!”
There were the typical Christmas displays: lighted trees, snowmen, angels, Santa’s sleigh, and a manger. A huge goose, outlined in blue, wearing a red scarf, appeared to fly off the stern of a sailboat. The fishing boat had a giant red Dungeness crab opening and closing its claws.
Which was admittedly impressive and fun. But when it came to the best, the Sea Wolf would get her vote. “You must have spent hours on it,” she said.
He shrugged. “I designed it last year and since it proved popular and migration is my busiest time, I decided just to repeat it. The mechanics to make the whales move are new this year. I added them the day before yesterday and finished putting on the outline lights this afternoon.”
The boat was outlined, bow to stern, in white lights while a mother and baby whale, lit in blue, appeared to breach from the bow.
“I love it.”
“Thanks. We came in second last year, behind the Douchetts’ crab. They won with those moving claws, which is partly why I decided to add animation.”
“Not that you’re competitive or anything.”
“Who? Me?”
They shared a laugh, then, as they chugged around the harbor, Meghann enjoyed the applause and oohs and aahs of the crowd who’d packed onto bleachers and watched from the brightly lit patio of the Sea Mist Restaurant and the upper deck of the yacht club. Others, not fortunate enough to have nailed seats, seemed equally happy to line the dock.
“It’s as if all of Shelter Bay has shown up,” she said.
“Small towns,” he said. “Not much else to do on a winter night.”
“That’s not it.” As much as she loved the fancifully decorated store windows and Rockefeller Plaza during the holidays, Shelter Bay’s boat parade touched some hidden core deep inside her. “This is special. I can’t believe Portland’s parade could be any better.”
His laugh was deep and rich. “We have twenty-five boats. They average around sixty each year. With many professionally decorated.”
“Which shouldn’t count,” she said. “This is special because people cared enough to do the work themselves for others to enjoy. Not to show off.”
“I doubt that everyone in the city just wants to show off,” he said. “But yeah. This feels special. Like home.”
That was it, Meghann realized. She’d experienced that comfortable familiarity as they’d driven down Harborview earlier today. She’d enjoyed seeing the town, looking like a toy train layout from the air. But now, as she waved a mittened hand back at the crowd, who was waving at them, for the very first time in her life, Meghann Quinn felt as if she’d come home.
* * *
They’d just docked when they were approached by a sixty-something woman wearing a thick quilted red parka and a dark-haired man with a faint limp who was holding hands with a woman wearing a red coat and knit cap atop glossy black curls. Accompanying them were a blonde little girl dressed from head to toe in pink, adolescent boys who appeared to be identical twins, and an elderly man.
Adam greeted them, and after introductions had been made, the older woman, Dee Kentta, said, “I brought Mac and Annie and the kids to tell you the captain showed up at their house right before they left for the parade.”
The house in question, Adam knew, was the Culhane’s yellow Victorian on Castaway Cove.
“I saw him,” Emma, the little girl, piped up. “He was rubbing on the rocks. I was afraid he’d hurt himself, so I went and got my big brothers.”
Adam turned toward the boys, Justin and Jordan. Jordan, the oldest by two minutes, had taken a class he’d taught this past summer at the Newport Aquarium about the evolution that had taken whales from land mammals to the sea fifty million years ago. “Was it dark yet? And you’re sure it was an Orca and not a dolphin?” At deep dusk, there could be a resemblance.
“The sun hadn’t set yet,” Jordan said. “And yessir, it was definitely an Orca.”
“I saw it, too,” Annie Culhane said. “I was in the bedroom getting ready to leave when the boys called. I looked out the window and there he was.”
“It’s the captain,” Dee insisted. “Just like I told you.”
“Did you see any other whales in the vicinity?” he asked Jordan and Annie.
“No,” they said together.
“He was all alone,” Emma agreed. “Poor thing. Jordan told me all about whales. He says they travel in families called pods.”
“That’s true.”
“So are you going to help him find his family? He must be lonely. And it’s even worse to be all alone at Christmas.”
Everyone was looking at him. Even Meggie. Waiting for his answer. Waiting, Adam knew, for him to do something. After all, he was the only whale expert here at the moment.
“I’m going to do my best,” he said. “But the sky’s too cloudy tonight for the floatplane. And th
e fog’s rolling in, so it’d be hard to see anything from the boat.”
“But he’s all alone.” Emma Culhane’s voice was close to a whine. “And Orcas always stay with their mommies. Even when they’re all grown up. So his mommy must be terribly, horribly worried about him.”
“He’ll be all right,” her father, Mac Culhane, midnight deejay for KBAY radio assured his daughter.
“He won’t be the first Orca to come along up close to the coast,” Charlie, Mac’s grandfather, said. “I’ve seen more than a few in my day, rubbing against the rocks. And they probably come here for the same reason folks do. It’s a nice place to visit.”
“Yeah,” the other boy, Justin, said. “Maybe he wants to buy one of those I went whale watching in Shelter Bay T-shirts.”
Emma fisted her small hands at the waist of her pink coat and tossed up her chin. “Whales can’t wear T-shirts, silly.”
“You going out tomorrow at first light?” Dee pressed.
Adam glanced over at Meghann, whose expression was not only resigned but told him that she was on Dee’s side. However they spent tonight, they were not going to be having a leisurely breakfast in bed afterwards.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” he pointed out.
“Like whales keep social calendars,” Dee scoffed.
“If it is the captain, maybe he just wants to hang around through the holidays, then he’ll be on his way,” Adam said. From Dee’s scowl and the way her dark brows dove toward her nose, he knew he hadn’t exactly hit a home run with that suggestion.
“I’ll go out,” he said. “But not until the fog lifts.”
“And we’ll call if we see him again,” Mac Culhane said.
“Can I come with you?” Jordan asked.
“Me, too?” Justin, whom Adam knew to be more interested in music and playing with his garage band, asked.
“Sure,” Adam agreed. At this point he wasn’t even sure what he’d do if he found a misplaced whale, but locating him would be the first step.
“I want to go, too!” Emma began bouncing up and down as if those Barbie-pink boots had springs in the rubber soles.
“I need you at home to help wrap presents,” her mother said, obviously attempting to distract her. “I thought you could color some designer paper.”
“You already brought paper home from your scrapbook store. I want to see the whale again. I like whales because they sing.” She turned to Meghann. “Daddy bought me a CD of their songs. I play it all the time. Don’t I, Mommy?”
“You certainly do,” Annie said with a wry smile that suggested the child wasn’t exaggerating about the frequency.
“I’d like to hear it someday,” Meghann said.
“You can come over to our house.”
“That sounds like fun. Meanwhile, I need to do some last-minute shopping tomorrow. I thought I might stop and have a cupcake, but it’d be nice to have some help choosing which flavor.”
“I could do that! Couldn’t I, Mommy?”
“You certainly could.” Annie smiled at Meghann, silently thanking her for sidetracking her daughter.
“My new favorite is the chocolate candy cane,” Emma said. “It’s scrumptious!”
“It definitely sounds Christmassy,” Meghann agreed.
“I’m sure you’ve got a packed schedule, since you’re here as a celebrity, but if you have time for lunch, Emma and I would love to have you join us at Chef Maddy’s Lavender Hill Farm Restaurant.”
“Actually, I mostly came here to visit old friends.” The look she slanted Adam’s way told everyone exactly which old friend in particular she was referring to. “The only official events planned are a public talk the day after Christmas at the theater and an appearance to hopefully boost participation in the auction at the Snow Ball.” Which, Adam realized as she shot him a quick, questioning glance, he still hadn’t asked her to. “So, I’d love to have lunch with you.”
“Free at last,” Adam said as they escaped the group and walked, hand in hand to the SUV.
“I liked them,” Meghann said.
“So do I. But I thought they’d never leave. And with me now having to leave at the crack of dawn to avoid Dee hounding me for the rest of my days if I don’t find her whale, I don’t want to waste any time getting you back to your hotel so I can finally seduce you.”
“Ha!” She shook her head and flashed a sassy, sexy grin. “What if I want to seduce you?”
He grinned back and ducked his head, giving her a quick kiss that drew hoots of approval from spectators leaving the parade. “Works for me.”
9
Adam knew that despite time-travel fiction stating the contrary, most people thought of time as a universal constant. Einstein had proven that time was, indeed relative. But nothing in Einstein’s Theory of Relativity could adequately explain why the drive to the Whale Song Inn from the harbor took forever.
As did the walk across the lobby, which also defied both the rules of architecture and Shelter Bay’s zoning laws by having lengthened to a mile long since they’d left for the boat parade.
As soon as the brass elevator gate closed, Adam leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were smooth as silk and chilled from being outdoors. But as she leaned in and kissed him back, they began to warm. And soften.
“People can see us,” she murmured as he nipped at her bottom lip.
“Ask me if I care.” His hands settled on her waist as he kissed her again, keeping it light for propriety’s sake. Not that he cared what people might say. Having spent most of his younger years as being seen as “different” by the time he’d reached high school he’d quit trying to fit in. Until he’d met Meggie. Who was just different enough herself to accept him for who he was.
At least she’d let him kiss her. He’d spent a lot of time looking at the unnaturally endowed women in comic books—and the rare Playboy or Penthouse one of the guys in science club would snag from his dad’s stash—and had imagined what touching a woman, kissing her, having sex with her would feel like.
He and Meggie hadn’t made it to that last part, but he had discovered, the first time her lips had softened beneath his, that his imagination regarding kissing hadn’t even come close to reality. Proving the old adage about reality never matching up to the fantasy dead wrong.
She’d surpassed it. So much so, that, although he’d been with other women over the intervening years—he might be a nerd, but he wasn’t a monk—none of them had ever made him feel as if he were in danger of spontaneous combustion the way Meghann Quinn had.
And still did. Since they seemed to be breaking all sorts of natural laws, Adam wouldn’t have been at all surprised to look up and see an entire Milky Way of constellations swirling overhead.
Unlike Adam’s earlier hot, demanding kiss, this one was so meltingly sweet. Tender and filled with promise. As Meghann swayed toward him to kiss him back, memories wrapped them in glistening silken ribbons and she wouldn’t have been at all surprised to hear the twitter of little blue cartoon bluebirds circling overhead.
When he deepened the kiss, his beard scraping her cheek, his tongue sweeping her mouth, all Meghann could think was that although she’d never considered herself hot, at the moment that was precisely the right word because between the time they’d entered the elevator and now, as the door opened into her suite, the blood flowing in her veins had turned to flames.
Adam Wayne had been valedictorian of his graduating class, which hadn’t surprised anyone. During the summer of their The Notebook romance (if Noah had been written as a rich boy and Allie had been an impoverished foster kid, without World War Two and dementia darkening the teen love story), his kisses had been so sweet. Almost grateful.
But wow, he must have had a lot of practice during their time apart, because if that Swedish Nobel Prize committee gave away awards for kissing, he would have won it, hands down.
And speaking of hands, after they’d thrown their coats onto the sofa immediately upon entering the suite, he cupped her butt
, and with his shoulder and arm muscles bunching, he lifted her up against him just like Noah had Allie in that hot and heavy kissing in the rain scene from The Notebook. A reunion that hadn’t turned out nearly as well as Adam’s and hers. So far.
She wrapped her legs—which probably were no longer capable of holding her upright—around his waist, and kissed him back as he carried her into the bedroom where he put her on the bed.
Then, hitting the pause button, he stood there, looking down at her, his gaze as serious as she’d ever seen it. Even more so than that night they’d built a fire on the beach and as sparks from the logs had flown upward into a star-spangled sky, had talked until dawn about all the things working against a long-distance relationship. And how, rather than end up eventually hurting each other, the sensible, logical thing to do was to accept the summer for what it had been and be grateful for the memories.
The only problem was that she hadn’t felt at all logical then. And didn’t now.
“I made a mistake,” he said.
“This isn’t a mistake.” There was no way she was going to let him get away with any analytical argument this time!
His lips quirked at one corner. His gray eyes warmed with a sexy mixture of lust and humor. “Not tonight. Back then.”
“You’re not going to get any argument from me.”
“One of the things I’ve learned is that sometimes logic sucks.”
“I’m not going to argue that, either.” She met his gaze. “But I will let you make it up to me.”
“I intend to.” The mattress sighed as he sat down beside her and ran his hand down her leg. “But first I want to get one thing straight.”
His fingers were making little figure eights, which he’d undoubtedly think of as infinity loops, at the inside of her thigh. Even as she wanted to scream at him to please stop talking and just get on with the program, Meghann swallowed hard and said, “Okay.”
“This isn’t a vacation fling. And it isn’t just living out an unfulfilled teen romance. It’s real. And whatever happens, unless you decide I’m the worst lover you’ve ever had and never want to be with me again, this isn’t the end. But a beginning.”
