by Debbie Mason
“That’s so rude!”
“Yeah, well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m having a hard time standing on my own two feet.” He leaned heavily on Miller, who seemed to sense Finn needed him and didn’t move from his side. “So forgive me if I’m not feeling overly sympathetic at the moment. But my advice still stands—stop shaking your butt, woman.”
“I…” She was going to say wasn’t but caught herself midwiggle. “Fine, but please stop calling me woman.” She yelped. “It’s moving.”
“Come here.” Finn gestured to the spot in front of him.
She shuffled her way toward him in an effort not to jostle the crab. Finn glanced at her and then looked away. There was something about the expression on his face that made her drop her gaze. Lovely, the water had left her pink shirt and white lace bra virtually transparent. And while it was a warm spring day with the temperatures hovering in the midseventies, her nipples were acting as though they were in the middle of a deep freeze. And now the man had to touch her backside with his big, beautifully formed hand.
She turned around and walked backward.
When she stopped in front of him, Finn cleared his throat. “Could you, ah, maybe bend down?”
“Like this…” She bumped into something hard. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching back to steady him. “Maybe if I bend over first and then shuffle back toward you. Would that work?”
“Yeah, why don’t you do that,” he said, sounding as though it took some effort to get the words out.
She thought maybe he was laughing at her and glanced over her shoulder. Definitely no sign of amusement on his too-gorgeous face. The man was staring at her butt. She rolled her eyes at herself. Of course, he isn’t staring at your butt. Obviously, he was trying to decide how to remove the crab without also removing a chunk of her cheek. The thought of him stitching her bare backside had her scrambling for another solution.
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t I sit in the tide pool? I’m sure he’d much rather be swimming with his friends than being stuck on me. Maybe then you could just push him off?”
Finn said something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, Not a very bright crab if he does.
“Excuse me, did you say something?”
“Huh? No, nothing.” He raised his gaze. “Just bend over and wrap your hands around your ankles. It should loosen his hold—”
“My ankles? I don’t think that’s a good idea. How about my knees?”
“Are you always this contrary?”
She was going to ask if he was always this cranky, but given that she could clearly see the pain etched on his face, she thought it might be best to keep quiet and do what he asked. If she could. She hadn’t given any time or thought to exercise over the past few years. She’d been consumed with helping Cooper get well. When she’d lost him, she’d been lost too. And then, just as she managed to claw her way out of the bottomless pit of grief, she got the news about her late husband Nathan.
She’d known nothing of his secret life until the call from Stanley that rainy September night. She didn’t get the opportunity to ask Nathan why, why he’d married another woman when he was still married to her, why he fought to save children in a faraway place and not their own son. So many questions that would never be answered. Nathan had died half a world away on a bright blue September day.
“Hey now, don’t cry. I promise I’m going to get it off you right…Looks like Miller is enjoying his role of hero today. Good job, buddy.”
Sniffing back tears, she reached behind her. She had no idea how Finn knew she’d been crying—they were silent tears. Sometimes like the memories, they just snuck up on her. At least she had a good excuse.
“It’s gone?” she asked, patting her backside, though the throbbing as the blood rushed to the pincer sites should have been her first indication she was crab-free. She straightened to see Finn prying the crustacean from the retriever’s mouth. “Don’t let Miller eat him.”
Finn bowed his head, took a deep breath as though searching for patience, and then hobbled to the tide pool with the crab gingerly in hand.
Olivia’s stomach somersaulted to the soles of her feet. “You’re really hurt, aren’t you?” It was more of an observation than a question. There was no denying that he’d been reinjured and that she bore the brunt of the responsibility. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“I’ll live. But I think this is a goner.” He held up her wig.
Fig Newton, she forgot about that. She waved her hand like him finding out she wore a wig wasn’t a big deal. “We can just leave it for the birds to nest in. I have others. I like to experiment with my look.”
“Is that right? So you have one blue eye and one brown eye on purpose?”
She touched the corner of her eye and caught the twitch of his lips. “One of my contacts must have fallen out.”
“You wear glasses?”
The man was annoying because apparently he could tell she was lying. But he was also hurt. Because of her, she reminded herself. “Here, let me help you.” She put an arm around his waist. Tucked in close to his warm body, she got a whiff of a delectable scent—bergamot and sandalwood. She angled her head to take a careful sniff. It was him. He smelled amazing, which made it hard for her not to keep sniffing him. Which would look really odd if he caught her. Instead, she drew his heavy arm over her shoulders. “Lean on me.”
He didn’t move. She glanced up and got caught in his sea-blue gaze. Without his square jaw and the hard angles of his face to balance his ridiculously long eyelashes and that sumptuous mane of dark brown hair, the man would be too perfect.
His eyebrow was raised. He’d caught her blatant stare. She wished she could see what she looked like right now. Could he tell she’d been devouring him with her eyes?
Break eye contact and do it now before you embarrass yourself, said a forceful voice in her head. At least part of her was thinking clearly. She managed a weak smile for Finn, praying he couldn’t tell she’d been moments away from fantasizing about kissing his sensuous lips, of being wrapped around his tall, muscular frame.
Where are these crazy thoughts coming from? she wondered, and decided they were a result of doubling up on her medication. That’ll teach her. She wouldn’t do that again: oh no, she wouldn’t.
“All right, how about we…,” she began, and then noticed he hadn’t moved. He was still looking down at her. “What’s wrong?” She prayed the conversation she’d been having with herself had been in her head.
“What are you on?”
“Pardon me?”
“Come on, Dana. I’m not judging you. I just want to help if I can.”
She had no idea where it came from—she barely knew the man—but all of a sudden, she had an almost overwhelming urge to tell him everything. To unburden herself and get it all out in the open. Maybe because, like Nathan, Finn was a doctor and worked with an international aid organization. They had something in common. Somehow, she felt like she could trust him to keep her confidence. She didn’t know why, but she did.
Maybe because Finn was strong and courageous, a hero. A man who’d faced down armed rebels to get his team and his patients to safety. Maybe he’d be able to show her how to face her own fears. Her fear of what would happen once she worked up the courage to return Stanley’s call.
“You know what, if you don’t want to open up to me, that’s your business. I get it, okay. But you’re working for my family, and if you’re involved in anything that could create problems for—”
His voice was clipped and judgmental, and all she could think was thank God she hadn’t confided in him. She was usually a good judge of character. It went to show how rattled she was. She was angry too. Angry that he could think she’d do anything to hurt his family. Given that he planned to leave in a few days’ time and break his grandmother’s and father’s hearts, she didn’t think he had a right to judge.
As quickly as her temper flared to life, it dissipated. All he
was trying to do was look out for the people he loved. She respected him for that. She wished Nathan had looked out for Cooper, for her.
She pushed aside thoughts of Nathan to reassure Finn. “I’m taking prescription drugs, not illegal ones. I realize you have no reason to trust me, but I’d never do anything to hurt your family.” An emotion darkened his eyes. She didn’t think it was anger. His face didn’t harden; it softened. She thought maybe he could tell how much his family meant to her.
“I don’t know about that. My family cares about you, Dana. As I’ve recently come to learn, they care about you a lot. So, if you’re doing something that will hurt yourself, indirectly it will hurt them.”
“I haven’t been sleeping. I forgot I’d taken a pill in the middle of the night and took another one this morning. I’m just a little groggy. It was an accident. It won’t happen again.” She kept focused on her rubber boots as she helped him up the hill.
Miller walked on the other side, keeping an eye on his master. Dana could feel the tension in Finn’s body, hear the catch in his breath. She was a bit breathless herself. The man was at least six inches taller than she was and must outweigh her by a good hundred pounds. She wouldn’t make it to the manor, but as she’d witnessed, Finn had his pride and was probably stubborn enough to try and make the trek himself. Olivia was pretty sure he’d end up facedown on the path.
“What are you taking?”
“I thought it was your brother Aidan who was the cop?” she said, annoyed that he wouldn’t let up.
A couple years older than Finn, Aidan was actually an undercover DEA agent. Olivia probably shouldn’t have mentioned him. She knew Kitty and Finn’s father were worried about Aidan. No one had heard from him since March.
“All right, I won’t pry. But if you ever want to go the natural route, I can suggest a few things for you to try. See if they help with the insomnia.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced to the left, where a white-brick lighthouse with a red roof jutted out toward the sea. “You wouldn’t happen to have a key for Ava and Griffin’s, would you?”
He nodded. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the place for them. Why?”
“If it’s okay with you, I wouldn’t mind cleaning up before we go back to the manor. My top…” She trailed off, positive he’d know what she was alluding to without her spelling it out.
“No problem. I wouldn’t mind getting cleaned up myself. We can borrow a change of clothes from Griff and Ava. I’m sure they won’t—”
The sun glinted off something metallic and caught her eye. It was her phone, lying on the ground. Her phone that she’d handed to Finn when…She jerked to a stop. Finn groaned. “Sorry, but this is really important. Where’s my glove?”
“Come on, not this again. Look, Miller’s fine.”
“I know, and I’m glad. But we still have to be careful. I picked up the leaf with my right hand. Maybe Miller got the left-hand glove?”
He reached behind him.
She leaned back, slapping a hand on the bulge in his pocket.
His eyebrow went up, and she fought back a blush because she was sort of touching his butt. She lowered her hand. “No, to be safe, don’t touch it again. We’ll just throw out your jeans and the glove, but we’ll have to hunt the other one down.”
“Hey, I like these jeans. You’re not throwing them out.”
She leaned down to scoop her phone off the ground. No sooner had she picked it up than it rang. She recognized the number. Her finger trembled when she rejected the call. She should answer and get it over with. It might be something as simple as sending her copies of her divorce papers. But she didn’t believe that was all Stanley wanted.
Because every time she saw his number, the small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she was overcome by a heavy sense of foreboding. Given the last time they spoke and the reason for the call, it’s possible her overreaction was due to a form of PTSD.
Strong fingers closed around her wrist. “Dana, relax. Take slow, even breaths or you’ll hyperventilate. That’s a girl,” he said when she did as he suggested, his other hand going to the nape of her neck. He gently massaged the tight muscles there, murmuring his encouragement as she got herself under control. There was no judgment in his voice. Just kindness and concern.
She’d heard Finn was well loved and respected by the people he served in the Congo. She now had a better understanding why. Leaning against him, she was enveloped by the strength and warmth of his body and the seductive scent of his cologne. She felt him take an awkward step back and realized she was resting too much of her weight on him.
“Thank you.” She self-consciously pulled away. “We should probably get going. I have to be back at the manor by two to get organized for the children’s craft session. They’re going to paint flowerpots for their mothers. I was going to use pink tulips but Miller trampled them, so maybe I’ll go with hyacinths. I think there’ll be enough. They’re pretty, and they mean constant love and fertility. That should work, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. And not to be rude, but I really don’t care. What I do care about is who’s trying to contact you. It’s obvious that they frighten you, Dana. Why don’t you let me help?”
“No, it’s not what you think. I’m fine, honestly.”
“Sure you are, because perfectly fine people have panic attacks when they get a call in the middle of the afternoon, take too many sleeping pills, and wear a disguise. Come on, what do you take me for? At least do me the courtesy of being honest.”
All she could do was blink up at him, the warm feelings of moments ago shriveling up in response to his Arctic-cold words. She’d been right the day she met him. He probably did have a God complex. He might be ten years younger than Nathan, but he was just as sanctimonious and judgmental.
Finn didn’t know what it was about Dana, but she managed to bring out the worst in him. She got under his skin. And because she did, he’d overstepped and said things he shouldn’t and in a way that he shouldn’t have. “I’m sorry. I had no business getting on your case like that. In my defense, I was worried about you. Occupational hazard, I guess. It won’t happen again.”
It wouldn’t because, after today, he planned to stay well away from Dana Templeton. She was dangerous. And vulnerable, and dammit, the haunted look in her eyes when she’d looked at her phone wasn’t easy to forget.
He put his arm around her slender shoulders, leaning on her as he maneuvered her toward the footbridge that arched over the tide pools. After how he’d called her out, he was afraid she’d want to head directly back to the manor. He didn’t know if he could make it, and he wanted one last chance to find out what was going on with her. If he couldn’t break past her defenses, he’d let someone else try. Because one way or another, he was getting to the bottom of this. And then he’d be done, finished, out of her life for good.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” he asked as they walked across the bridge and onto a path bordered by tall, rustling grasses.
“No, I had to concentrate while we were walking over the bridge. You may not have noticed, but some of the boards were loose. I didn’t want you to trip. This isn’t much better. Be careful.” She nodded at a rock at the edge of the path.
If anyone else coddled him like she was, he’d probably bite off their head. For some reason, it didn’t bother him when she did. But he didn’t want her to make a habit of it, so he said, “You know that I just have my arm around you to keep you warm, right? I don’t want you to catch a chill.”
“You don’t seriously think I buy that, do you?” she asked, then gave an involuntary shiver when a strong wind blew off the Atlantic, dampening their faces with sea spray.
“Believe me now?”
“No, but I’ll take you up on that offer.” She snuggled in a little closer. “Would it be okay if I grab a shower?”
“I was going to suggest that you do. You were lying in st
agnant water and no doubt have open wounds. They’ll need to be disinfected.”
She jerked back, throwing him off balance. “You don’t have to take care of them. I can.”
“Would you stop moving like that?” he snapped, more from frustration than anger. It wasn’t solely related to the zing of pain that shot up his leg in response to the aggressive movement. The conversation had inspired an image from earlier to pop into his head. He tried his best to erase the memory of her bending over in front of him, bumping into his groin. His mind wasn’t cooperating. It immediately replaced that image with the one of her standing in front of him in her see-through shirt and bra.
He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t planning to take care of your wounds. You can put an antibacterial cream on them yourself. But you do realize I’m a professional, right? It’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen before.”
He should have shut up while he was ahead. But he didn’t want her to think the thought of stripping her bare was turning him on. Whoa, where the hell had that come from?
She looked up at him.
He pretended he didn’t notice and hurried her along the path to the lighthouse, gritting his teeth the entire way.
Opening the red wooden door, he ushered her inside. “Chase and his crew have been doing the renovations while Griff and Ava are away, so be careful. They’re mostly working in the kitchen though.” Which was fairly obvious since it had been gutted. “You can take the shower off the master. Everything you need should be in there.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind? I can—”
“No, go ahead.” And he hoped she did it quickly because her top and bra were still wet and see-through. He looked away to pull out a chair at the rustic, rough-hewn wooden table. “I should sit for a while anyway.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you lie down? You can prop your leg on some pillows.”
It would be. But there was a problem, and it was a fairly substantial one. “They’re redoing the other bedrooms. There’s only the one bed. It’s in the master.”
