Desire on Deadline

by Lucy Lakestone

  “Tourist is a role I can play,” she said. “Sailor, not so much.”

  They stood for a moment, listening. Her long dress caught the breeze and swirled dramatically around her legs. He was so distracted, he almost didn’t hear the voices behind them.

  “Alden,” Roz whispered.

  Alden grabbed her hand and started walking. She looked up at him in surprise as she kept up.

  “We’re tourists,” he explained, “having a romantic evening.”

  A corner of her mouth turned up, but she didn’t say anything, just focused straight ahead as they walked past the closed doors of the big building and farther down the docks, toward the privately owned boats. They passed a couple of rows of slips and found a place on the dock to sit, a spot mostly shielded by a darkened yacht. The people they’d heard had walked the other way, and now no one was in sight.

  “Seems pretty quiet,” Roz said.

  “Too quiet,” Alden agreed with faux drama.

  She snickered. “I guess it’s too early to call it a night. We just got here. But my patience with wild goose chases is not high.”

  “We can’t call it a wild good chase until we’re completely bored, our asses hurt from sitting on these planks, and we have to pee.”

  “What if my ass already hurts?”

  Alden smiled. “You can sit on my lap.”

  “I’m feeling better already,” Roz said.

  “How’s this?” He got up and moved across the dock, sat and leaned against a pole. “Lean against me and relax. We’ll still have a good view, and we won’t look like we’re having a foodless picnic.”

  She watched him from the middle of the dock for a moment before she got up and sat next to him. She spread her skirt around her and rested against him.

  Alden smelled jasmine and, trying to subdue his craving, casually draped an arm over her shoulders.

  “This would be more convincing with champagne,” she said idly.

  “Maybe another night.” The moon was high and getting fat, though mostly obscured by scudding clouds. “The moon’ll be full in a couple of days. We can get some champagne and go howling.”

  “If you’re a werewolf, I’m drawing the line at working with you,” Roz said.

  “What about a wolf?”

  She looked up into his grin. “You like people to think that, don’t you?”

  “That I’m a wolf? Appearances aren’t always deceiving.”

  “There’s more to you, and for some reason, you don’t want people to know it.”

  Alden shifted, uncomfortable with her insight but craving it just the same. He held her a little more tightly and listened to the creaking of the boats and the slosh of the waves.

  “What a cozy stakeout,” Roz said softly after a few minutes.

  “Except for the lack of champagne.”

  “True.”

  “We could go on a booze run,” he said.

  She giggled and smacked his knee. He felt a surge of sensation a little further north.

  “Does the FBI go on booze runs?” she asked.

  “They have a guy for that, I’m pretty sure. Though mostly it’s doughnut runs.”

  Roz chuckled again. “We need an intern.”

  “I understand the Gazette can use all the free help it can get,” he agreed.

  “Shut up,” she said, elbowing him.

  “You need to stop abusing me, or I’ll file a police report with that forbidding Officer Cinder. She looked ready to arrest you this morning.”

  “I think you like it when I abuse you,” Roz teased.

  “You have a point. Just being with you is torture. Torture me some more.”

  “Ha! That wasn’t torture.”

  “No, but this is,” he said, sweeping her around and onto his lap, facing him, her legs astride his, her knees bent.

  “Hey,” she said softly. She sounded surprised but not terribly upset.

  Not upset at all.

  ≈≈≈

  Roz wasn’t as upset as she should have been when Alden swung her onto his lap.

  In fact, she wasn’t upset at all, probably because this was the kind of attention she’d been craving all day, even as she realized how unwise it was. But it had been so, well, fun — not to mention comfortable and companionable — to spend her day with Alden in a common pursuit. And then so difficult to hear him tell his story of failure and to know he still carried that pain with him, under all the arrogance and jokes. His tale made her want to save him from his core of anguish and darkness, a task that was almost certainly beyond her power.

  Now, though, Roz experienced his pure physicality, the strength in his hands and arms as he shifted her and clutched her waist. In the half-light, his handsome face looked serious in a whole different way from before.

  She wriggled, settling on top of him, savoring the feel of him manhandling her, and she heard him catch his breath.

  “This is nice and warm,” Roz said, looking into his eyes, questioning. The breeze lofted her long hair and tried to lift her skirt.

  “You call it nice. I call it torture,” Alden whispered. He fisted one hand in her mane, pulled her close and kissed her hard.

  His possession was as electric as the night, which was alive with the sound of the wind and the waves and their breathing, the scent of the salty water and of him, that clean scent that made her think of crisp, white shirts and fresh air. She fell into his embrace, pressed against him, opening her mouth to his hungry tongue. She let a whimper escape as his strong hand pressed against her back, and underneath where she straddled him, she felt him harden. She rocked against him, slipped her fingers into his hair, and he grunted as layers of fabric frustrated their contact. She could feel her own arousal, and she wondered if she would ever regain control of herself. Their bodies seemed to vibrate from the intensity of the kiss.

  Vibration. Noise.

  She pushed her hands against his chest, breaking the spell. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

  “All I hear is the blood rushing in my ears.”

  “Then listen.” She pressed a finger against his lips and tried to ignore how soft and hot they were. “A motor.” Was it a boat?

  “It’s just a truck,” Alden said. He gasped as Roz rolled off him and looked in the direction of their quarry.

  “I think it’s going to Consummate Catch,” she whispered. “Let’s check it out.”

  “This really is torture,” he moaned, getting to his feet with difficulty, smoothing his hair and clothes.

  “Shhh. Let’s go up behind these other buildings and circle back around.” She took his hand and tugged him across and off the docks, then along an alley behind a cluster of businesses situated across the access road from Consummate Catch.

  This neighborhood was disorienting. The buildings and paved lots were a jumble as they stacked up against the irregular water line. She had no idea now how to get back to the car and hoped they wouldn’t have to leave in a hurry.

  “Stop,” Alden said, calm and collected again, halting her before she could plunge forward into the next parking lot. “We don’t want to be seen.”

  “But I can’t see them,” Roz said, impatient. From behind this building, they had no view at all of Consummate Catch. “Let me peek.” Before he could stop her, she popped her head around the corner, did a quick reconnaissance and leaned back. “There’s a truck unloading stuff into their warehouse, it looks like. It’s backed up to the door. I saw someone pull a box out.”

  “A box of what? Bananas? Coke? Cocktail parasols?”

  “I don’t know. You didn’t want me to be seen!”

  “Touché,” he said with a nod. “How about we just stroll across the parking lot like we belong here and see if we can get a better view?”

  “You mean walk right up to them?”

  “Hell, no. What if they are drug dealers? Let’s walk over there.” Alden pointed to a clump of trees next to a little cafe across the parking lot from them, but still fifty yards from Consumm
ate Catch. It was fairly dark, and the moon was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds. If they could get to the bushes without being seen, they’d have a decent observation point.

  “Should we run?” Roz asked.

  “No. We’re out for a romantic stroll, remember?” Alden wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her in the direction of the trees.

  Nervous, Roz slipped her arm around his waist and tried to pick up their pace.

  “Women, always wanting to lead the dance,” Alden teased. “Relax.” He leaned over her and planted a sweet kiss on her mouth. “That was for authenticity,” he whispered.

  Buoyed by the kiss, Roz glanced over at the Consummate building. There were a few workers in sight, moving around the gray truck’s back end, which faced the open bay door of the warehouse.

  Abruptly, the dark lot that separated the warehouse from the reporters lit up like snow.

  “And I used to think the moon was romantic,” Alden hissed, this time pushing her toward the trees.

  They sprinted the last ten yards, stopped behind the clump of landscaping and took a gander. As far as she could tell, they hadn’t been spotted. At least, no one had come out to chase them.

  The mischievous moon slipped back behind the clouds, and the silver light that had threatened to expose them faded away.

  After a few minutes of heavy breathing that had nothing to do with Alden and much more to do with fear, Roz started to relax and pay more attention to their view. Now they had a much better angle to see into the warehouse. It appeared the workers were simply unloading white boxes from the truck outside and reloading them into the back of a box truck inside the structure.

  “That seems pointless,” Roz whispered.

  “Not if they don’t want to connect whatever’s in Truck A to wherever Truck B is going,” Alden replied. “Or maybe they’re just distributing produce or something along with their fish.”

  “Then why is Truck A unmarked? I can’t see all of Truck B, but it’s bright blue like the boats. It’s branded. And we didn’t find anything about a distribution business. What if they are transporting drugs? They could put them in the fish truck and move them around, and no one would be the wiser if they avoided inspection.”

  “Maybe you can order grouper stuffed with cocaine.”

  “Gross,” Roz said.

  “Why don’t we work our way around and get the license plate of the truck? At least then we can figure out who they are.”

  “They’ll see us!”

  “No, they won’t,” Alden said. “You head out there — ” he pointed to where this access road adjoined another — “and I’ll meet you on the other side of that bait and tackle business. See it?”

  “And you’re going to do what?” Roz asked nervously.

  “Get the license plate. I won’t be a minute.” He started rummaging among the bushes, stuck his hand into the hedge and pulled it out with an “Ow!” He held an empty bottle that, according to its label, once held a third-rate vodka. “You can always count on some bum to throw his empty into the bushes.”

  “Alden, what are you going to do?” Roz tugged at his arm, trying to instill reason.

  “See you on the other side,” he said with a smile, tugging his shirt out of his pants. He staggered out into the lot.

  “This can’t be good,” Roz mumbled, slipping into the shadows next to the buildings and trotting toward the access road. She heard singing and looked back over her shoulder to see Alden weaving around on the pavement, pretending to drink from the bottle and warbling a seriously off-key “What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor?”

  She ran to the protection of another cluster of landscaping, this one across the road from where she’d been and near the perpendicular road. She was out of sight of Consummate Catch but could clearly see Alden as he tripped toward the gray truck. And then the moon shed its cloudy veil again, shining a spotlight on him.

  “Put him in the long boat till he’s sober!” Alden bellowed. “Put him in the long boat till he’s sober, earl-aye in the morning!”

  “Hey, what’re you doing there?” a gruff voice came from somewhere behind him.

  “You got a drink?” Alden called out, his voice slurred.

  “Get out of here before we send you up the crow’s nest, you idiot.”

  “Yo ho ho!” Alden said, changing direction, heading toward Roz. “Put me in bed with the captain’s daughter, put me in bed with the captain’s daughter, put me in bed with the captain’s daughter, earl-aye in the morning!”

  She heard distant laughter. They thought he was a joke. Good.

  She wasn’t laughing by the time he caught up with her. “What the hell was that?” she whispered.

  “I thought I made a very convincing drunk.”

  “Well, you are a journalist.”

  “We can discuss it later, if you don’t mind.” Alden pulled her farther into the shadows.

  They jogged away from the docks, keeping buildings between them and the warehouse, then shifted and turned and turned again, working their way back to the public parking area near the restaurants.

  Alden tossed the bottle into a trash can as they got to the lot, then tucked in his shirt. “I suppose you wouldn’t want that drink now?”

  “I am way too freaked out,” Roz said. “Let’s wait till we get home.”

  Alden smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Drinking or home?”

  “Either one. Let’s get out of here.”

  ≈≈≈

  Alden argued with Roz as they worked their way out of Naples and took the causeway to Mimosa Key. The topic: where she was going to stay the night. He saw only one logical choice, and it wasn’t her house.

  “They haven’t made any more attempts to do anything to me, whoever they are,” Roz said.

  “Because you’ve been out of town all day and basically untraceable.” Alden wanted her to stay with him, and not just because of an irrational desire to tear her clothes off. “Why not stay with me? You have a cat to feed or something?”

  “I could stay with my mom.”

  “Is she all right?” he asked.

  “She was earlier today when I called.”

  “Then you might as well stay away. They have to know who your mom is if they looked up the boat registration. If you go there, you could just lead them to her.” Perhaps it wasn’t fair to bring up her mother, but damn it, Roz was too bullheaded for her own good.

  Roz sighed as they reached the foot of the causeway where it met the island and headed down Harbor Drive into town. “I packed a bag this morning. I could stay at the Fourway.”

  “Oh, lord, don’t stay at the Fourway,” Alden said. “I see the exterminator parked there a little too often, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think he’s dating the clerk.”

  “Roz, come on. Come home with me. Or — I could call Casa Blanca and see if they have a vacancy.”

  “Now that’s totally impossible,” she said. “I can’t afford it.”

  “I can,” he said.

  “The Times pays that well?”

  “I have a little money put away,” he said, not wanting to mention the trust fund that he rarely tapped. “Just let me call.”

  Alden got off the phone a minute later. “They have a villa with your name on it. Actually, my name, in case someone’s looking for you.”

  “This is too generous of you,” she said. “I’ll drop you off at home, and then I’ll go there and hide. But I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

  “No and no. It’s in my name, and I’m going with you. Besides, my car is still up there.”

  “Alden.” They reached the Fourway red light.

  “Roz. You are not prying me from this car until we reach Casa Blanca.”

  She glanced over at him. In her pale eyes, he saw frustration and fear and thanks and a light he didn’t recognize, a spark that gave him a hopeful thrill.

  “OK,” she murmured. “But this doesn’t mean you’re
the boss of me.”

  He laughed. “Heaven forbid.”

  Roz turned right to make their way to Casa Blanca.

  They parked in the main lot. Alden checked in while Roz got her overnight bag and satchel. He met her in front of the main building where it faced the beach. It was almost midnight, and the clouds had thinned, letting moonlight shimmer on the gulf and weave magical shadows through the pretty tropical foliage of the resort.

  Alden smiled at Roz, who looked nervous, and led her down the paver-lined path toward their beachfront villa.

  They let themselves in with the key card. Inside, the building was every bit as exquisite as outside, with rich wood and tile and fabrics creating an atmosphere of exotic elegance evocative of Casablanca, the resort’s namesake. Roz dropped her bag by the couch with a “Wow,” then wended her way through the French doors out to the dark patio and pool, made more private by a screened enclosure. Alden followed, and they both took in the view of the glittering gulf.

  “Wow,” she said again. “I thought they had hotel rooms up at the main building?”

  “They do, but they’re all booked for a wedding.”

  “This is magnificent.”

  Alden had to agree as he stood back and watched her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the sea air. The wind lifted her thick hair and swirled the long skirt of her outfit around her, its slit revealing her shapely legs as the fabric clung to her curves and wafted in the breeze like a flag.

  He stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

  Roz stiffened, but he just held her close, his front to her back, willing her to relax.

  “What are you afraid of?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Besides getting shot at?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She was silent for a few moments, but he felt the rigidness in her muscles ease. “Oh, where do I start?” she said softly. “Failure, for one thing. Falling short of my potential, losing my career.”

  “I know from experience that it’s not the career that matters, unless it truly makes you happy.”

  “Are you happy?” Roz asked.

  Alden shifted, not wanting to lose her. “I’m working on it. Are you afraid of me?”