by BJ James
“She grows her own?” From the look of her, Devlin wouldn’t have thought she was physically capable of tending flowers and the needs of a small child.
“Apparently. I’m not a regular at Ravenel’s, but I’ve seen her there before.” To her shame, Kate realized that in her self-absorption, she’d never stopped to buy flowers, or even to speak. “I’d seen her,” she amended, “yet hardly noticed her. Until Tessa.”
“Then Tessa hadn’t been coming with her long?” Devlin watched the look of guilt settle over Kate’s features. The look of one awakening to the needs of others. Because of the gift of a little girl, Kate Gallagher had taken one small step out of her shell, and back into the world of the living. Even better, back into the world of caring. A small step, a hopeful beginning.
“According to the manager, only for a short time.”
“Then the child is visiting. I suppose, with her parents.”
“That’s what I assumed, at first, but the manager believes there’s just the two of them. He was concerned, for he felt the old woman wasn’t as well as usual last time.” Thinking back, Kate recalled the tremor in the hoarse voice, the bluish tint of bloated features. Legs so grossly swollen, her ankles spilled over the tops of sensible shoes.
“Maybe that’s why Tessa was with her. As grandmother’s helper, to do the legwork.” Devlin offered the logical explanation, but he saw Kate took no comfort in his logic. “Hey.” Touching her face, lifting her chin with a knuckle against the softest of flesh, he offered the best alternative he could. “Maybe there’s no reason for anyone to fret. They could just be having too much fun together to bother selling bouquets in a grocery.”
“You think?”
“What I think—” he smiled to soften the warning as his fingers unfurled to cradle her cheek “—is that you’re borrowing trouble. But, if it will ease your mind, I’ll check by the store on my way into the lumberyard in the morning.”
“Would you?” Kate wanted to catch his hand in hers, keeping the comfort of his touch, if only for this moment. Instead she stood as she was, waiting for his answer with hope in her eyes.
“Sure.” The single word was low, and deep, and infinitely gentle. “I liked the little tyke. She’s a sweet kid, and one day, she’s going to be a heartbreaker.” Like the woman before him. The woman with hair the same color, and matching eyes. The woman who might, one day, have a daughter exactly like Tessa.
Catching a curl drifting against her cheek in the barely discernible breeze, he tucked it behind her ear. “And now, little darlin’, I’d best get on with the job, or I won’t need new supplies from the mainland tomorrow.”
Easing back, putting a safer distance between them, he unbuttoned his sleeves and turned them back. He didn’t belabor his need to return to work, nor repeat his request for help. Instead he smiled his half smile, dipped his head in a small salute, saying, “Thanks, darlin’, after a morning of carpentry nothing is quite as pleasant as lunch shared with a beautiful lady.”
Another salute, this time in a touch of his fingers to the bandanna, then he strolled away, a man ready to work. He’d reached the stack of lumber before she sighed softly and followed.
Kate wasn’t sure why she’d come, but if it was in hopes of a distraction the paperback novel hadn’t provided, coming to him had been the right choice. The beach was a beginning, for walking the sand, feeling the wind on her face and in her hair, eased the troubles caught in the cobwebs of her mind. Where the beach left off, Devlin had begun. Intriguing, kind, wounded Devlin.
Devlin, who peppered his conversations with sweet and silly names. Lady Golden Eyes, to make her want to laugh and blush at once. Darlin’, in that low, slow drawl that set her heart pounding a little harder, a little faster. She’d never expected to laugh, or care, or have a friend again, but that was before Devlin, master of distraction, master tease.
The guilt for daring to feel, or to enjoy an attractive man’s company, would come later. She would deal with it as she always dealt with guilt. But for now, there was a dock to be repaired, and a beguiling carpenter who needed a helping hand.
Halfway to the river, Kate became conscious of the gusto in her step and the smile on her lips. She’d reached for a smoothly planed board, lending her strength to his, when she realized the ever-present pressure at her temples wasn’t there.
When he stopped in midmotion, murmuring his thanks, she answered truthfully, “My pleasure.”
As she turned away for another board, she didn’t see Devlin pause and frown, wondering how many hours of night music would serve as penance for daring to feel, to care, and for taking this little pleasure from it.
“How many, Kate?” he asked on a silent breath. “And for how long?”
Four
Kate rose to the growling roll of thunder. The bedside clock had read 5:59 as she wandered into the great room, but the world beyond the bank of windows was as dark as midnight. Low-lying clouds seethed against the horizon and, churned by the wind that drove a fast-moving storm, a dark sea mirrored the chaos of the sky. In that chaos, borne on the turning tide, racing whitecaps crested into great curling monsters bludgeoning the shore.
As wave after wave inched farther inland, Kate knew that soon the narrow road traversing the island would be under water. Little more than a shell-covered trail, the impractical concession to the ecology of the island was never meant to bear more than the sparse traffic needed for access to each home. And originally never meant to last longer than each season as it wound past carefully tended property fronts and along the base of dunes.
Since most of the traffic between town houses and island houses transpired by boat, with many of the businesses in town enticing summer trade by providing dock space and services, that left only maintenance and rare incidents requiring the illusory road. Rather than allow asphalt or macadam on the island for that rarity, with McGregor the local king of asphalt at its helm, the owners elected to share the cost of rebuilding the meandering and natural version of an island thoroughfare whenever need be.
Granted, along with the warning that washouts were possible, Jericho had also noted they rarely occurred. In fact, at the time of her arrival, he’d assured Kate that not once in his tenure as sheriff had the tide risen so high or been so rough that the pretty path needed more than the occasional bald spot repaired.
Ordinarily, beyond the ecological damage the raging tide might inflict, Kate wouldn’t care. She was well stocked, and thus content to accept the island as it was. Ready, for the sake of preserving privacy, to deal with its idiosyncrasies as they evolved. But this day was different. At this moment she would have sacrificed the naturalness, the beauty, the privacy for a dependable passage off the island. For today was the day Devlin was to pick up supplies at the lumberyard later. And, if he remembered, check at Ravenel’s for Tessa and her grandmother.
Drawing the favorite orange overshirt closely about her, Kate looked into the hovering snarl of fury. With every second the tide was running faster, each wave breaking over the one before, devouring it, adding the destructive power of one to another.
Lightning slashed across the sky, turning murky clouds into wonders of fire and light. As if its rage exploded, thunder roared anew. And even as the light dimmed, and the crash of wrath quieted, the first of the pelting rain began. Sweeping from the sea in gusting sheets it battered towering windows with sand and salt and water. Raindrops cracked against glass like fistfuls of stones thrown by a mischievous hand. An ominous sign.
Even if the road remained intact, a violent downpour combined with a rising, wind-driven tide assured temporary flooding. And the loss of electricity. As always with any storm, the telephone was already lost. But none of that disturbed Kate as much as another day without news of Tessa and the old lady. News she’d been promised. If the storm hadn’t come. And if memory served.
But he wouldn’t have forgotten. Not Devlin.
Leaving the window, with the familiar band of pressure settling at her templ
es, Kate crossed to the kitchen alcove. Rising on tiptoe, she was taking down a cup when a sharp rap sounded at the back door. Glancing at the rain-swept shore, guessing who would brave the weather but wondering why, she hurried to answer.
“Devlin!”
“Morning, darlin’.” Sweeping an Australian cattleman’s hat from his head, he shook collected rain from the brim and, without waiting for an invitation, stepped inside. Halting by the door, he didn’t venture past the mat lying by the threshold. “Some storm, huh? The tide must be ten feet above normal.”
“Good heavens! What are you doing out in this?” Kate had to raise her voice to be heard over the roar of a sudden cloudburst hammering the tin roof. “Surely you aren’t going into town!”
“Surely I am. And so are you.”
Though pitch-black had given way to leaden gray, visibility was nearly zero. Negotiating even the best of avenues in the storm would be nearly impossible. “You’re joking.”
“It’s just a little rain, with the worst sure to end soon.” Chuckling, turning his hat in both hands, then folding it into one, he said, “Lord knows, I’m sweet enough to melt, but I never have.” Reaching out he touched her cheek, letting his fingertips trail drown her throat to the hollow at its base. “You might, darlin’,” he teased. “But I’ll take care that you don’t.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Backing away from his touch, she found the heady, rain-washed scent that clung to him followed. Anxious as she’d been about Tessa, the thought of spending time with Devlin in the close quarters of the cab of a truck, sealed away from the rest of the world by the elements, was alarming. “Rain or no rain, I’m not going anywhere. I have things to do.”
“What things will you do?” With most of the rain he’d brought in with him dripped off his slicker and soaked into the mat, he closed the distance between them. “What can you do, especially when the electricity goes out like the telephone. As I’m told it’s prone to do with less provocation than this little old shower.”
Kate moved back another step, beyond his reach and the possibility of another teasing touch. A touch that still lingered on her flesh like a sweet memory. To her dismay, he followed. And in her dismay she didn’t realize the gale had stalled and quieted. The calm within a storm gathering strength for more.
“What will you do, Kate? Play through the day as well as the night? Wreak havoc on the piano, fretting over Tessa and the old lady, when we could be seeking the answers you want.”
He was so close now, so near. Only a long rising breath and their bodies would touch. The softness of her breasts brushing the hard plane of his chest… Kate closed her eyes and clenched her fists between them, willing the rest of the image to be gone. Tessa, she must think about Tessa. And Paul. Not Devlin.
But how could she not think of Devlin when he was so close, so beguiling. Letting her lashes lift like a fluttering veil, she met the look that searched her face intensely. “You were going to the mainland about Tessa, but also for me, weren’t you?”
Folding his hands over hers, keeping the wedge of their conjoined arms as a buffer between them, with a dip of his head he brushed his lips over her knuckles. “I’m going.” Straightening to meet her golden gaze again, speaking so softly the words were almost lost in the storm, he said, “But for all of us.”
He was going for Tessa because a sixth sense that saved him more times than he could count, and had failed him only once, warned that the child needed someone. He was going for Kate because he had seen the hope of her salvation in an enchanting smile of gratitude for a bouquet of flowers. He was going for himself. He knew now, in some inexplicable way, his own survival was tied with Kate’s.
“Where would you find these answers?” Kate left her hands in his. Accepting the power that was comforting and exciting.
“After the lumberyard, we go to Ravenel’s.” He spoke in terms of both of them, for he was sure she would go.
“And if they aren’t there?”
“Then we go to Jericho.”
“You think he’ll know about the woman? And Tessa?”
“If anyone can help us, Jericho can. If he doesn’t have the answers we want, he’ll know where we can find them.”
Kate had met the sheriff only rarely, and briefly. What she knew of the man was more by reputation than personal experience. But he had called Devlin a friend and a good man. Judging from Devlin’s confidence in Jericho, the feeling was mutual.
Kate’s service in The Black Watch had taught her to err on the side of caution when dealing with figures of authority. Especially figures of authority. In the field, and on assignment, she seldom accepted any judgment but her own. The self-reliance had kept her alive. Along with Paul Bryce. But Belle Terre wasn’t the field, Tessa wasn’t an assignment. And this was Devlin.
“All right, Devlin.” As easily and trusting as that, her decision was made. In the dark slicker and dark hat, he’d loomed larger than life in the whipping rain. Seeing him like this, calmly braving the elements, taking the furor in his easy stride, Kate knew she hadn’t been wrong in thinking much of his life had been spent chasing adventure, courting danger. An autumn squall, even one shaping into epic proportions, would be just another challenge.
In a battle of wits, man pitting strength and knowledge against the elements, Kate chose Devlin. “When should we leave?”
“As soon as you can be ready.” There was no question, no smug victory. Only a calm acceptance, and a look of relief.
An instinctive but unneeded glance at the window showed little hope for immediate improvement in the weather. By now he’d recognized a pattern. If ever the storm eased back, it was only to follow the vacillating tenor with a formidable gain of force. “Quickly, before the road to the bridge floods, if you can.”
“I can.” Stepping away from him, away from the circle of his scent, away from his touch, Kate swiftly took stock of the little that must be done before leaving the house to the mercies of the storm. “There’s a book with a list of instructions the owner left for me to follow in case of a hurricane.”
“Get it for me.” The storm didn’t qualify as a hurricane in either scope or power. But that didn’t mean this rogue would do any less damage. If fact, Devlin knew from experience, the rogue could be worse. Short, quick, deadly, and destructive. “I’ll see to what should be done while you change.”
Wasting neither words nor time, Kate went directly to the book of detailed, hand-written instruction. She didn’t insult him by explaining as she passed it to him. “Ten minutes, tops.”
“That’s a promise?”
The wind surged, the house shook on its pilings, dishes chattered in cabinets. The top of a palmetto tree snapped like a twig and tumbled across the roof screeching like chalk against slate. Kate had vacationed on beaches around the world, yet never lived near the sea for any length. But it didn’t require being a veteran to know the time frame for negotiating the shell road was limited. “Ten isn’t a promise, but seven is.”
“And you keep your promises.” Devlin’s voice was sure.
“As you do, my friend.” Kate didn’t wait to see the effect, if any, of her spoken trust. She’d promised seven minutes, seven it would be. Hurrying away, believing implicitly that he would see to the precautions on the list, her mind was already sifting through her closet, deciding what was practical for a deluge.
Jeans and a denim shirt, and because the storm brought a chill, a bulky sweatshirt. Waterproof hiking boots, a cap tucked in her hip pocket. A glide of lip gloss, a whisk of mascara for her eyes—because she couldn’t risk more than these small vanities—then she tackled the tangles in her hair. Surprisingly, it cooperated, presenting not one stubborn snarl. Once it was banded tightly at her nape, she had a minute to spare, to catch her breath.
Contemplating herself in the mirror, she realized she was stroking her hand, and the knuckles Devlin had kissed.
His hands were hard, strong, work-worn. His lips were soft and tender. And it meant noth
ing. Except that he was a thoughtful, compassionate man. Perhaps, because of his own mysterious hurt, more compassionate than anyone she’d met in all her life.
“Just part of the charm, Lady Golden Eyes.” Kate met her gaze sternly in the mirror. “It meant nothing.” Nothing but a token of a friendship that for all its newness went deeper than any she’d experienced. In a tone as stern as her look she drove the point home, “Friendship, that’s all it was, and all I want.”
Leaving the dressing table, tugging the cap from her pocket, she settled it at an angle over her forehead. She was ready. Ready for Devlin, the friend she’d never had, with a minute to spare.
The drive into Belle Terre was not as Kate expected. The gray day took on a subtle beauty, with mists rising and swirling and gathering about roofs and treetops between each drenching. The little road stood undamaged for a while yet. If there were treacherous patches, Devlin’s skill at the wheel smoothed them out.
The bridge that joined the island to the mainland arched over the fog-shrouded land like a bridge beginning and ending in nothing. But in her trust that he would keep them on safe and firm ground, she even relaxed and enjoyed the mystic look of sights so familiar. Even Hobie’s gatehouse looked more like a fantasy than the domain of a no-nonsense guardian of a small corner of paradise.
“I wonder where he is.”
Devlin looked up from his concentrated negotiation of the downward arch of the bridge. “Hobie?”
“He wasn’t in his house.” She didn’t pass through the gates often, but when she did, he was always there to send her through with a cheerful wave. “Do you suppose something’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what could be. Since it’s an unlikely day for intruders, he probably took a few minutes away from his post.” In a glance away from the road he saw her troubled face. “Hey.” His hand curved around her shoulder, his palm cupping the sharp bones as his fingers stroked taut muscles. “Tell you what, if Hobie isn’t back at his post when we return, we’ll stop and check. Deal?”
