Some Like It Hot

by Susan Andersen

  She laughed. “God, you tickle me.”

  He looked at her as if unsure whether or not she was mocking him, and she just wanted to crawl onto his lap and wrap him in her arms. She had to content herself instead with merely leaning over the table toward him.

  “I’m not making fun of you,” she earnestly assured him. “I simply adore your honesty. You don’t play games—if people don’t immediately know where they stand with you, they do shortly thereafter. It’s nice. Refreshing, even.”

  He gave her a wry, one-sided smile. “That’s me. Refreshing. So, you like blunt talk?”

  “It turns out that I do. Very much.”

  “I want to get naked with you again.”

  She laughed, but beneath the table where he couldn’t see, she squeezed her thighs together. “I’d like that, as well. But I promised Jenny I’d come in today to work on the Razor Bay Days stuff.”

  “Damn.”

  She indicated the uniform he’d donned. “It looks like you’re ready for work yourself.”

  “I am. But I’m motivated—I can give you a down-and-dirty good time real fast.”

  She shook her head but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Will you give me a rain check?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Then his eyes went more serious as he looked at her over his coffee cup. “Tell me about your mama woes while we finish up breakfast.”

  She took a bite of her potatoes, chewed, swallowed, then set her fork down. “Mom hates that I travel so much.”

  He nodded. “I remember you saying that you and your dad liked all the moving around, while your mom and brother didn’t.”

  For a moment, she simply stared at him. She couldn’t recall one other person who’d ever paid as much attention to the things she said as Max did.

  Then she gave her head a little shake. “Yes, well. As we established, I was a daddy’s girl. And my father always had this saying—you stop moving, you die. It drove my mother crazy—she thought that was a stupid excuse for never settling down. But the thing is, Max? He finally did give up all the traveling, mostly for her. I was several years out of college, working a job in Stockholm at the time, but my folks and my brother moved back to the Carolinas, where Mom and Dad started up a business. And ten months later? He was dead.”

  Max put down his own fork. “You can’t believe it had anything to do with his saying.”

  “Intellectually, I know that would be superstitious nonsense and, worse, probably silly, to boot. But emotionally?” She nodded. “Yeah. I think he was onto something.”

  “Jesus, Harper.”

  “What can I say? Emotional truths don’t have to adhere to any rules of logic. Besides, it’s more than just my dad dying. I like traveling, love seeing new places and meeting new people. But my mom refuses to extend me the courtesy of acknowledging that perhaps I actually do know my own mind.”

  “How about you? Do you blame her for your father’s death?”

  “What?” Shock at the idea zipped like an electrical current along her nerve endings. “Of course not! Why would you even say such a thing?”

  He gave her a level look, patently unconcerned with her indignation. “You just said that emotionally you believe in your dad’s ‘You stop moving, you die’ motto. According to you, your mother made him stop moving.” He raised a hand. “Seems like a reasonable question to me.”

  “There’s nothing reasonable about thinking my mother’s to blame!”

  “Then doesn’t it correlate that sometimes things just happen and there’s nothing reasonable either about believing somebody dies just because they stop traveling?”

  She studied him mutinously for a moment, then heaved a big sigh as if that would help her get back on track. “I don’t know. You’ve got me all confused.”

  “And you’ve gotta get to work—I know.” He reached across the table to run a gentle fingertip over the fists she hadn’t even realized she’d balled upon the tabletop. “Just...give it some thought, okay?”

  She didn’t know why she suddenly felt like crying, but she did. Preventing herself from doing so by sheer willpower, she gave a jerky nod of agreement. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Can you finish your breakfast first?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not hungry any...” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’m quite full.”

  “Okay.” He rose to his feet and watched as she collected her purse, then walked her out to her car. He opened the driver’s door for her but stopped her before she could climb inside. Cupping her nape, he bent his knees to bring himself closer to her height, then dipped his head. He gently kissed her with lips that married softly seeking to seductive suction.

  With the very first touch of his mouth, she felt some of her tension melt away. There was just something about the feel, the taste, of this man.

  Just something about him. He touched her, and she felt wrapped in warmth. In comfort.

  For a moment, after he finally raised his head and stepped back, he studied her solemnly. Hooking a knuckle beneath her chin, he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I made you sad, and I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t my intention.”

  “I know. Sometimes, I just really miss my dad.” And Lord, it was true...but not the whole truth. What she felt was somehow more than simple grief.

  The problem was, she couldn’t even say to herself what that “more” might be, never mind try to find the words to explain it to Max. So she gave him a helpless shrug, got in the car and reached for the door handle to pull it closed.

  With one of his hands on the roof of her rental and the other holding the outside handle to prevent her from closing it, he leaned down, his shoulders blocking out the morning sun just rising above the treetops in the woods behind his house. “Will I see you soon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Straightening away, he slapped the car roof. “I’ve got your word on that, right?”

  “Yeah.” She closed the door. And realized as she drove away that he truly did.

  Her emotions might be all over the place at the moment, and she sure as heck needed to run her mother to ground and somehow convince her to get off the dime and follow through on informing Cedar Village of their grant status. But even with all of that, she’d had a major taste of Max’s lovemaking last night. Being with him had been...incredible. Incredible in so many ways she couldn’t put a name to them all. All she knew was that he’d made her feel things she had never felt before, sexually, emotionally and, well, every way there was.

  And if her time here was finite, she planned on getting as much more of that everything as she could. Right up until the day she packed her tent and moved on.

  * * *

  LATER THAT WEEK Max stared at the screen on his work computer, but for once he was too distracted to see a word of the report he’d been typing up. Vaguely, he was aware that Sheriff Neward was holed up in his office, but that was hardly news. The man spent most of his time there these days and had begun talking more and more often about retiring.

  In all honesty, Max thought the department would be better off if he did. Neward was a dinosaur who had pretty much quit doing his job. Plus, he was old school all the way, opposed to anything he considered newfangled. Hell, Max and Amy had had to talk themselves hoarse to convince him to computerize the department. They’d been years behind the rest of the state.

  The question was, did he want to run for Neward’s position when Neward did finally retire? He knew he’d be good at the job, but all the glad-handing it would take to get there wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

  But, man. He had a million ideas for improving the efficiency of this department.

  The phone rang out at the dispatch/reception desk, and he heard Amy pick it up. When she didn’t buzz his line, he tried to go back to his report.

  And failed. This time his thoughts went straight to Harper. They’d gotten together twice in the past three days. And Jesus, the sex had been so damn good. When he was inside her, when he held her and felt
her holding him, it made him feel...whole.

  Their conversations, unfortunately, were less satisfying. Hell, who was he kidding—meaningful conversation had basically become nonexistent. He couldn’t think of one significant thing they’d discussed since the morning after his birthday.

  He couldn’t kid himself any longer. Something had been niggling at him for a while now. For all that he’d gotten her to talk a little about her family that morning, he still had the sense there was more that she wasn’t saying.

  For years he’d longed for a relationship that was solid—something along the lines of what his brother had with Jenny. He really wanted someone who’d feel free—no, anxious—to share the details of her life, her thoughts, with him.

  He’d like to believe that’s what he was building with Harper. He was crazy about her, but her jones for keeping on the move aside—which, c’mon, all on its own hardly boded well for her remaining in town—his cop instincts were screaming that parts of her story didn’t add up.

  He’d given her a lot of openings; she’d ignored them all, shying away from saying more than the little she’d already told him. Then there was her habit of disconnecting every damn time he walked in on her talking on the phone. And the girl didn’t exactly have a poker face. She was definitely up to something.

  Well, either that or had someone else, and he was the piece on the side.

  He hated that idea, and God knew, he’d tried to ignore it, because any way he looked at it, it didn’t strike him as Harper’s style. But something was sure as shit off, and he just couldn’t pretend otherwise any longer.

  Which left him with only one recourse. He had to do some quiet digging.

  It wasn’t like he planned to run a full-scale background check on her or anything. But he could ask a few questions of the right people and see where that got him. Because if nothing else was true, he knew this much.

  He needed to know what the hell he was dealing with.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “HEY, IS THIS a race?”

  Harper, who had suddenly sprinted ahead of Tasha on their trek down the beach, stopped next to the wind-and-salt-water-bleached log she’d scoped out earlier. Setting down the Styrofoam cooler she’d borrowed from the inn, she flashed Tasha an unrepentant smile.

  “Sorry. I got a little excited. But, honestly, don’t you think this is the most fabulous spot? Look, it even has an honest-to-gawd patch of sand.” She waved at the rare-for-Razor Bay fine-grained strip of beach in the protected lee of the log, then snapped open her blanket and watched it drift down atop it. Sitting down, she stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed her ankles.

  “You’re right, it’s really fantastic. And this was such a great idea.” Tasha dropped her small cooler next to Harper’s and looked out over the canal at the mountains. “I’ve lived here my entire life, but lately I hardly ever seem to get out long enough to enjoy the scenery.” She toed off her Keds and plopped down on the blanket next to Harper.

  “I know, right?” Resting back on her elbows, she looked at the strawberry blonde. “I was busy planning a bonfire for the guests at the inn when I suddenly thought we need one, as well. Sure, they’re paying guests, but why should they have all the fun? And since I haven’t been to a bonfire since I got here, or okay, since I was—” mentally, she counted back “—good God, in college—”

  “Holy crap, you two have long legs!” Jenny called as she and Jake approached. “I feel like a Corgi trying to keep up with a couple of greyhounds.” She waved that aside to jump into the conversation she’d obviously overheard. “I’m not a native, but I have lived here since I was sixteen, so close enough, right?” She set her cooler with the others. “And unlike I-make-pizza-and-that’s-all-I-do Riordan, I do get out and do a few fun local-recreation kinda things.”

  “Well, sure,” Tasha agreed. “You have a teenager around.”

  “Yes, it definitely makes a difference.” Settling next to Tasha, she looked around the secluded spot Harper had selected away from town. Then she grinned at them. “I gotta tell you, a no-kids-allowed/not-connected-to-work picnic is just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Sez you,” Jake grumbled, squatting to drop a load of firewood on the pebbled beach between the women-occupied blanket and the high-tide line. “You frail, female types aren’t the ones doing the heavy lifting for this non-work-related shindig.”

  “No, we left that to you,” Harper said cheerfully. “We did the heavy thinking, recon and planning instead.”

  He sent her an easy smile over his shoulder. “Good one.” Then he turned his entire body in their direction, a move that should have looked awkward to execute in a crouch yet somehow didn’t. His hands hung loose and relaxed between his spread thighs in a pose that reminded her a lot of his brother. He gazed around him, taking in the cliffs that soared above this part of the beach and the line of trees that had tumbled down their banks over the years to stretch across the shore toward the water, down a bit from the spot where they’d congregated.

  “You probably heard I grew up in Razor Bay but got the hell out of town the minute I could,” he said. “I can’t say I recall this exact spot, but it’s a good one.”

  He brought a finger up to scratch at his temple. “I’m surprised I don’t recognize it—I thought I knew all the good make-out spots.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Jenny. “And that’s a good-sized rock over there,” he said, indicating a huge boulder jutting up out of the pebble and shell beach. “Bet we’d have all kinds of privacy to get busy in on the other side of that baby.”

  She rolled her eyes but gave him a slow, sexy, get-back-to-me-later-on-that curl of her lips.

  “Don’t mind me.” Heaving a big sigh, Tasha let her head droop theatrically on the long stalk of her neck. “The fifth wheel will just sit here poking at the fire and eating too many s’mores while you couples disappear into the bushes and behind rocks to have all the fun.”

  Jake opened his mouth, but she raised her head enough to give him a look. “Trust me, sport. You don’t even wanna go there.”

  Harper spotted Max striding down the beach toward them, balancing a sizable bundle of wood on each shoulder, and it was as if someone hit the mute button on her friends’ conversation. Suddenly the only sound she heard was her heart beating like a bongo. Holy Mary, mother of—

  Since Max’s birthday they’d gotten together several more times, and she kept expecting the newness, the edgy excitement he made her feel, to wear off. Or at least to dim a little. Instead, she kept getting sucked in deeper, into that rampant sexuality, into his life.

  And this despite her best efforts to hold him at arm’s length from her own. She’d love to be insouciant about the affair they seemed to be having, to simply enjoy it while it lasted. At the same time, it didn’t seem quite right to be so intimate on a sexual level when she refused to say anything the least bit intimate on a personal one for fear she’d give away who she really was and why she was here in the first place.

  She was tired of having secrets and truly wanted to share all of herself with him. And not just with Max, but with Tasha and Jenny and Jake, who’d befriended her, as well. Then there was everyone at Cedar Village. This had gotten way out of control. She was giving her mother one final call, and if she didn’t promptly come through, she’d inform Mary-Margaret herself that the grant had been approved.

  Then she’d get busy explaining herself to everyone. But until then she really ought to at least take a big step back from the sexual relationship with Max.

  She swallowed a snort. Right. She’d initiated a great deal of it. And every time she made a genuine attempt to stay away from him, he simply slid like smoke past all her barriers. She’d had a lot of opportunities to hold herself aloof. Yet Max seemed to be carving out a place for himself in her life—and might even have been carving a more long-lasting place in her heart.

  At least for however long she remained in Razor Bay.

  The thought made her very nervous. Becaus
e if anyone was settled in his life, it was Max. And she was so not.

  She had to tell him the truth. To hell with her mother!

  “Well, lookie here,” Jake said drily as the man in question strode up and crouched to unload his wood next to Jake’s. “If it isn’t the overachiever.”

  Max snorted. “Says the guy who went to Columbia University while I went into the Marines to keep from ending up an angry, bitter loser.”

  “Aw.” Jake grinned. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better about only bringing one load of wood.”

  “Well...yeah.” He turned to Harper. Flexed an impressive bicep, turning his fist forward and back to make it jump. “So, we manly men did all the heavy lifting—”

  “You don’t wanna go there, bro,” Jake warned. “She’s got a real good comeback for that.”

  Max dropped his hand to his side. “Tried it already, huh?”

  “Yeah, and trust me, it didn’t fly.”

  “Okay.” Max’s dark-eyed gaze made a leisurely trip up and down Harper’s body.

  It took all she had not to wriggle in place. She raised her eyebrows and hoped to heaven that she came across coolly amused and not like a toddler in need of a bathroom.

  Or a woman thinking about her next orgasm.

  The genuinely amused look he returned made her fear she’d fallen short of her goal. But all he said was, “What’s for dinner?”

  “I picked up some fried chicken and potato salad from the Sunset café.”

  “I brought a marinated veggie salad, s’more fixins and wine,” Tasha said.

  “And I’ve got corn on the cob,” Jenny added. “Which I pre-buttered and salt-and-peppered and wrapped in foil. All you need to do is toss it on this little rack that I leave up to you big, strong men to figure out how to put over the fire. I’ve also got grapes and some sliced watermelon and tossed in a couple of beers for you and Jake.” She slid him a sly smile. “He tells me you’re a new fan of Ridgetop Red.”

  “That I am.” Max wasn’t the least embarrassed to admit as much. Hell, prove him wrong, and he didn’t mind owning up to it. But neither did he see a reason to beat the subject into the ground, so having done the owning, he moved on. “That’s some great menu.” He patted the back of his hand to his chin. Gave the women a little smile. “Am I drooling?”