Samantha Elliott
WindSwept Narrows
Book One
Karen A. Nichols
Copyright 2012 by Karen A. Nichols
Smashwords Edition
Published by Karen Nichols. Copyright, Karen Nichols. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
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Chapter One
Logan Sheffield parked the SUV near the construction trailer. He stepped onto the damp pavement and surveyed the huge achievement laid out across the massive twenty-five acre property. The two story parking garage was almost complete. The arcade center was half finished. The restaurant and resort, half finished. The casino was at the almost done phase, too.
One palm rose, stroking the shortly clipped goatee and moustache, a newly acquired habit when he was deep in thought. Comfortable boots crunched on the unfinished gravel driveway, a small canopy with a large drafting table set up beneath it his destination.
Simon Oliver glanced up from the report he had and the plans laid out before him. The bright yellow hardhat sat on the table, his pencil moving over the large paper, making notes until the crunching gravel caught his attention.
“Come to view your new kingdom, Logan?” Simon leaned back on the stool, his palm out to greet his client and friend.
“Can’t wear the crown without the kingdom, the peasants’ rebel,” Logan drawled with deceptive laziness. “So tell me about my casino.”
“Knowing you, you’ve read the report I sent you at least twice,” Simon gestured to a stool, Logan’s head shaking.
“Been driving for days…standing feels much better,” Logan paced around the canopy. “At least twice, true…I like the changes we talked about.”
“Green building is important in this area,” Simon watched his friend. “Wind and sun power will save you a great deal. You’re going to be on the ground level of the new private casino rush. You’ve pulled together one big project.”
“The four of us make a good team…we’re all after the same thing,” he said thoughtfully. “And in the same age range…similar values…combining the fun aspect to fit all needs was an interesting challenge.”
“The hotel is done and only the aesthetics being worked now,” Simon checked his watch. “Being Friday, there won’t be anyone here until Monday, though. If you want access…”
“I do…I’ll take one of the rooms and stay here,” he accepted a master pass card from Simon. “Thanks. I hear you’re married now?”
“Chloe…she’s an incredible woman,” Simon admitted warmly. “Have you talked to Ian? He’s at the compound…he’s engaged.”
“Engaged? Little brother made the move, huh?” Logan slipped the pass card into the pocket of his jeans. “Dad knows I’m relocated…I didn’t know you knew Ian.”
“Yeah…it’s a long story…interested in dinner? Or just crashing for the night?” Simon closed his brief case and made certain anything of value was locked up inside the trailer. “Security is here and I’ve sent out a text with your photo and name. You shouldn’t have a problem at the night entrance.”
“Dinner would be great…”
Logan pulled his shirt from his jeans when he exited the elevator. It was somewhere eerie to wander the halls of an empty hotel. But it gave him time to look over the décor and various amenities. Very nice, thick carpeting, his footfalls barely registering as he went to the end of the third floor. He didn’t pay attention to the small brass embossed sign outside the room he selected as his for the next few weeks. All he knew was it would be roomy and comfortable.
He tossed the large suitcase onto the stand near the bathroom. When Henry Chambers designed a suite, he did a great job of it. A small kitchenette, a small washer and dryer, an excellent bathroom. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it toward the open washer. He’d go shop for groceries tomorrow, wash clothes and spend time reading and taking a much earned partial vacation.
The generous balcony decked out with comfortable furniture faced the South Sound. The Narrows Bridge was off to the west and a wide expanse of rocky beach below.
Logan sunk into one of the cushioned chairs, his booted feet on the rail and head back with a long sigh. It had been a nice evening. Simon and Chloe were good together. That kind of happiness wasn’t something he’d had much experience about and listening to Chloe tell him all about Anya and his brother made him smile.
There were the sounds of cars and trucks in the distance. Even the now and then rustling of leaves when the breeze off the Sound swept through the trees. But it was the abrupt and shrill scream that broke the tranquility Logan had been sinking into. His body reacted instinctively, boots hitting the concrete and all six foot three of him pulled upright.
Dark eyes swept the direction he thought the sound have come in from just in time to see the bright spark of a gunshot further down the beach. Then his gaze caught on the bright color of a tank top, the flipping of a long ponytail and the outline of a woman falling to the low tide rocks.
Logan grabbed the pass card on his run out the door, not bothering with anything else. It was a nicely warm late May evening, the sun going down at nine in the evening as he took the stairs two at a time, hitting the door hard that led to the outside. He didn’t pause, but oriented himself as he ran over the concrete, weaving between the garage and the fencing.
He found a gate at the back, passing his card through the reader and hitting the solid packed sands at a hard out run. There was no sign of a shooter, his vision of the wide open beach sweeping as he ran. The only thing marring the stretch of kelp covered stones and sand, the crumbled figure of a woman, one of her hands wrapped tightly around a large backpack.
He reached her at the same time the first signs of lightening appeared in the west, winds sweeping across the water with a chill. Sure fingers found one wrist, her pulse pounding strongly beneath his touch. She lay on her side, long hair pulled back from her face in a high riding ponytail. She looked tall, his hands moving behind her back and beneath her legs after putting the backpack on his shoulder.
He stood up carefully, striding back the way he had come. It was thirty minutes before he used the pass card on the door to his room, grateful for the auto swing that latched it behind him. He laid her on the bed, dropped the pack and went in search of towels. They hadn’t escaped the rain. Thunder rumbled outside the open patio door, his hands pulling off the hiking boots she wore.
Logan straightened slowly, rubbing a towel over his head. This could go radically wrong, his conscience warned when he reached for the shirt tucked into the waistband of her jeans. But he was never a guy who didn’t because of what might be. It was pretty sure she’d get sick if she stayed in the soake
d clothing and she was showing no signs of waking.
He found the complimentary robes, reminding the male in him that he was undressing an unconscious woman. A very nicely curved, beautiful unconscious woman with long, silky red hair. Pale eye lashes and brows and a genuine redhead, he mused, trying to work fast and get her wrapped inside the warmth and dignity of the robe. You are almost thirty-seven years old, his conscience stated firmly. You are old enough and mature enough to look at a naked woman and not drool like an eighteen year old. Yeah, right.
He took her clothes and his, threw them into the washer and added the complimentary soap before beginning the cycle. He took a long glance at the unconscious woman before he went into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar and standing for a very long time beneath the stinging spray.
Logan dragged the towel over him, staring into the mirror at the dark hair and dark eyes. Now and then the lights caught and sparkled off a stray silver hair either on his head or his chest. He sighed and pulled the belt tight on the robe, striding into the main room and freezing in place.
“Hello,” she was sitting in the middle of the bed cross legged, head tilted slightly. She’d watched the steam leaving the bathroom for a long time. Slim fingers had traced over the letters on the bathrobe she wore, dark green eyes taking in the very large room.
There was a sofa and very cushiony chair; a large TV and a beautiful view of the beach and waters, now quite choppy from the storm that tossed the drapes over the patio screen door.
“Hello,” Logan responded with the single word very slowly, long trained to assess situations quickly and efficiently, he met the bright green eyes without wavering.
There was no concern or fear on her face.
That made him frown just a little.
Not that he liked the idea that he was someone to be afraid of, but she should be looking slightly nervous at least. She had freckles over her nose, soft and light, and barely noticeable. Her chin promised a stubborn streak; a high forehead and cheekbones and a pair of sparkling stones in her ears completed what he could see.
“I put our clothes in the washer,” Logan said carefully, searching for something to fill the silence with. A big part of his common sense demanded to know why he hadn’t simply called the police. She isn’t your problem, a firm voice reminded him logically.
“Oh…I see…did we get caught in the storm? It smells amazing.” She looked toward the wonderfully scented air sweeping in from the open patio. “Are we up very high?”
“Third floor, end, and yeah, we got caught in the storm,” he watched her eyes move slowly around the room and land on the table littered with the contents of her backpack. He knew her name. He had an address and had gazed through her cell phone address book.
Slender fingers held the ties at her waist, pale lashes blinking and a soft wince crossing her face. She raised one hand and touched her head.
“Ouch…did I fall?” Came the curious, innocent question.
Dark eyes narrowed. Something was definitely off.
“Samantha…” He began carefully, moving into the room to sit at the small round table where her personal items lay.
“Is that my name? How did I fall? Do we have any aspirins? My head is seriously giving me grief,” she moved gracefully off the bed, long legs betrayed at the split in the robe but going unnoticed by her.
She crossed to look at the collection on the table. So focused on the items, she missed seeing the combination of quickly flowing male appreciation and stunned denial on his face at her words. She picked up the wallet, flipping through it and staring at the photo. Nothing fit. There was no niche in her brain for this information, no safe data file for them all to be called upon when needed.
Fingers that seemed to know what they were searching for found a multi partitioned plastic container, the small boxes labeled inside.
“Ahh…good…” she picked three of the small tablets from the inside and snapped it closed, padding on bare feet toward the kitchen. “This is a lovely room. It’s huge,” she said, taking a long drink of cold water with a grateful sigh. “You didn’t say how I fell…I have a bump on my head…that’s how the clothes got dirty, isn’t it? I was on the beach,” she said as if she knew that was the answer.
“The tide is low and the rocks are slick with kelp and moss,” Logan followed her with his eyes.
She pulled the blankets down on the bed and climbed to sit in the middle once more.
“How long have we been married?”
Logan closed his eyes for a long minute, wondering if he had been the one to fall and hit his head. Then some of her words came back to him.
“You don’t know your name?” He sat up straighter, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“There seems to be missing bits in my head,” she said with a sigh, laying down against the soft pillow. “I’m sure it’ll all come back…maybe I just need some sleep. I don’t know your name…well, not right now…” she peered over the expanse of bed at him. He was handsome. She had a very handsome husband, she mused, deciding she really liked the moustache and goatee, the dark short cut waves and the intense brown eyes watching her.
“Logan….”
“I didn’t see my luggage…I saw yours….” Her nose wrinkled, a yawn easing free. “Sorry. Did we have a long trip to get here? Is that where my luggage is? They lost it, didn’t they?”
“I think you’re right and sleep would be a great thing for you right now,” Logan nodded quickly.
“We haven’t been married long, have we? It’s a beautiful honeymoon suite,” Samantha rolled to her side, staring out the patio door. A soft sigh left her lips, toes painted a bright pink dug into the blankets. “So where is the Windswept Narrows?”
“How do you know…” Logan saw her smile and touch the robe she was wearing.
“The writing is on the robes, Logan,” she said with a chuckle. “Guess it’s so they know to return the robes to the honeymoon suite. They’re very comfortable and soft.” She sighed again and rolled to sit up, wincing and reaching up to pull the elastic band from her hair. “Ahhh…” Ten fingers massaged her head and temples, moving carefully over the side where the bump was. “You aren’t talking….are you alright, Logan?”
“I…am…worried about you,” he saw her shrug, the golden red hair framed the feminine features and cascaded over her shoulders.
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll all clear up…so where are we?” She moved carefully, laying on her stomach facing the bottom and Logan. Elbows went to the bed and she leaned her chin in her palms, legs bent at the knees and feet crossed as they swayed behind her.
The robe opened slightly and went unnoticed by Samantha. But the male in him was very aware of the lightly freckled firm breasts.
“Twenty-five acres just north of the Narrows Bridge in Tacoma,” Logan answered after inhaling slowly.
“It’s beautiful. And very quiet…peaceful. Why did we come here?” She yawned again. “Do we have family here?”
“I think it’s bed time,” Logan pushed up and went to throw the clothing into the dryer, turn off lights and move around the room. “You need some sleep, Samantha.”
“I’m sure if I knew my dad, you’d sound just like him,” but she moved to the top of the bed, laying on her side and facing the patio. “I’m sorry, Logan.”
“Sorry for what?” Logan looked at the sofa and groaned aloud.
“It’s not a very fun honeymoon…”
“You’ve got a bumpy head, Sam, close your eyes and sleep, okay?” Logan rummaged in his suitcase and pulled out a comfortable pair of shorts, leaving the robe hanging on the door before he eased onto the bed. It was a big bed. Easily enough room for them both without complications. He pulled the blankets over them, carefully tucking them between them and around her.
What? You go to dinner and meet a knock out redhead and suddenly you’ve got one in your bed? Did you rub some mystical lamp or something?
Logan swallowed the groan, grateful it was
dark even when he felt his body react to the images in his mind of a long legged redhead.
He knew he was asleep. He was exhausted from the drive so he’d sunk into sleep hard. The pelting rain and thunder was oddly soothing. He felt the bed lurch slightly and heard her gasp, her breath caught and difficult to catch.
Logan rolled to sit up, his hands out and on her shoulders, holding her still. A long minute passed before her eyes opened, her head shaking.
“Logan!” His name came out in a low, husky whisper, her arms up and around his neck immediately. “I…there was someone chasing me! I saw them! I saw them, Logan!"
“It’s okay, Sam…breathe…” He wasn’t sure where the words came from. Part of him wasn’t even sure where the comforting arms came from. Women had come and gone in his life, and that had been fine with him. Something had never been right about the relationships. Neither had been willing to bend or learn or change.
Her fingers were cold against his chest. Cold and shaking. Her entire body shook with a ravaging shudder, her face pressed against his chest. One arm held her close, tight; the other palm moved to stroke over her head, soothingly.
“I saw the beach, Logan,” she said after a long silence, her head nodded. “I did.”
“Sam…you’re here now…safe with me…the door is locked and we’re on the third floor,” Logan spoke quietly, gradually leaning back into the warmth of the pillow. He pulled the blankets over them. So much for separate sides of the bed.
“Yes…safe,” she whispered, snuggling close to him.
He felt the warm breath ease free in her sigh and swallowed the groan when his body reacted to the slender form pressing to his side. He wasn’t sure what he should try thinking about to force his body to behave itself, the tightening holding in place for several long minutes before he realized her breathing was steady and all was silent once more.
His senses told him the rain was gone. His eyes opened slowly, taking in the grey outside the patio. The Sound, the bridge and all the daily noise now shrouded in the cloak of fog. He was in the middle of the bed lying face down. He was in the process of telling himself it was one hell of a dream when the rich voice began filling the suite.
WindSwept Narrows: # 1 Samantha Elliott Page 1
