by Meg Tilly
A multitude of possibilities had been unspooling before him ever since they’d gone clamming on the beach: the sisters moving to Solace; Maggie, her sunshine smile, her mouthwatering baking.
“We’re going to stay,” Maggie said.
Luke glanced over. She looked lighter, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
She’s staying!
“That’s wonderful news,” he said. He felt like his heart was doing backflips in his chest. “I’m so glad.”
“Me, too!” Maggie beamed at him happily. “I know it seems impetuous, crazy almost, but we love it here.”
“Hey.” He settled into the backrest, relaxing muscles he hadn’t known were tensed. “You’re preaching to the converted. At least you took a couple weeks to decide, whereas I . . . ”
“Two days, two weeks? Big diff,” Maggie said with a laugh. “And it looks like I might have a buyer for my part of Comfort Homes, so next step”—the giddy sparks of energy streaming out of Maggie were so tangible Luke could almost see and taste them—“we have to find a cozy place to rent and figure out the work situation. Although the Saturday market was profitable, I don’t know if it would be enough to sustain the both of us. I think it’s better suited as a supplemental type of income.”
Luke nodded. “You’re right about that. You can probably make enough to live on, but it depends on how you want to live.”
Maggie grinned. “Point well-taken. I enjoy the occasional camping expedition; however, I’d prefer not to dwell in a tent permanently.”
* * *
• • •
LUKE AND MAGGIE stepped out onto the sidewalk, the screen door at Becca’s swinging shut behind them.
“Here goes,” Maggie said, sliding a spoonful of salted caramel gelato into her mouth. “Oh my God.” Her voice came out a husky murmur, rather how he imagined she’d sound in the throes of passion. “You’re right. So good.”
“You should try the two together,” Luke said, tipping his cup of Belgian chocolate in her direction.
“If you insist.”
He watched her spoon dip, first into his and then hers. There was something so intimate in this simple act of sharing. He felt something more than just an erotic pull as he watched her lips close around the little pink plastic spoon of combined gelato flavors. There was a tenderness, a longing in his chest.
Her eyes closed as she savored the taste of the two together. “Oh boy.” She sighed happily. “Now you’re in trouble. You better guard your ice cream. Otherwise I’ll be all over it.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. The strands of her hair glittered gold and copper in the sun. “Hey, I just had a great idea! What if we open a little café? I cook, Eve manages, and we can display her gorgeous art on the walls.”
It was a beautiful sunny day, but suddenly something didn’t feel right. Luke scanned the area. The place looked clear.
“She’s such a talented artist,” Maggie continued, reaching over for another spoonful of his gelato. “When you see her paintings, you’ll know what I’m talking about. She’s truly gifted. And I’m not just saying that because I’m her sister.”
He was jumping at ghosts again. His instincts usually didn’t flare up on Solace Island, but all of a sudden they had shifted into overdrive. Make sure, he told himself. You don’t need a repeat of the deer episode. She’ll think you’re crazy. “Yeah,” he said, forcing his attention back to Maggie, who was looking at him a little quizzically. “I think the café is a good idea.”
Something was off.
“Is something wrong, Luke?” she asked.
“Hang on.” The feeling was getting stronger. He did a three sixty of their surroundings.
Bingo. There it was. A black Cadillac Escalade tearing out from behind the gas station. It slammed its way across the road, dodging the oncoming traffic.
Not a second to lose.
He grabbed Maggie, yanking her close, tucking his body tightly around hers. He could hear the loud roar of an eight-cylinder motor pushed to the limit, the sharp, panicked cry from the rotund, gray-haired woman in the purple muumuu exiting the optometrist’s. The Escalade SUV jumped the curb, tires squealing, causing smoke and the acrid smell of burned rubber to fill the air.
In situations like this, it was as if the world slowed—every second stretching into twenty. He dived for the protected space between the buildings, felt the air rushing past them, saw Maggie’s gelato fly from her hand. Midroll, he clocked the SUV’s premium-painted wheels with chrome inserts, the privacy glass, the four-wheel drive, the lack of a license plate.
“What . . . ?” Maggie seemed to be having difficulty forming words. That was to be expected. The landing would have knocked the wind out of her. “The hell was that?”
The woman in the purple muumuu ran over. “Sweet heavens to Betsy! Are you okay? Oh my goodness!”
A crowd was forming. Not good.
“I was so scared!” the woman continued. “That truck went roaring right up onto the sidewalk. It was almost as if it was trying to run you over!” She shook her fist at the SUV, her dozen bangles jangling. “Some people,” she shouted, as the SUV skidded around the corner on two wheels and vanished from sight, “should not be allowed on the road!”
“Did you see inside?” Luke gritted out. “See the driver?”
“No,” the woman said, squatting down. “Those windows were darker than shit. Are you okay, dear?” she asked, helping Maggie up.
“Yes.” She looked pretty shaken. “Thank you.”
Hell, he was feeling pretty shaky himself. Luke managed to get to his feet, using the wall for support. Once he was upright, he leaned against the wall, trying to look casual, as if his leg weren’t hurting like hell.
“Your boyfriend, he’s a keeper,” the woman was saying sotto voce, patting Maggie comfortingly on her shoulder.
“Oh,” Maggie started to say, “he’s not my—”
“Well, if he isn’t,” the woman interrupted, “you should snap him up pronto. I do believe that quick-thinking young man saved your life.”
If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he would have laughed out loud at the expression on Maggie’s face, but laughter wasn’t an option. His leg was cramping badly. Controlling his breathing wasn’t working. He could feel a trickle of sweat slide down the side of his face as he prayed he wouldn’t humiliate himself by passing out.
* * *
• • •
THE WOMAN IS right. Luke saved me. Maggie turned to thank him, but the words caught in her throat. He looked terrible. Sweat beaded on his forehead; the color had leeched from his face, leaving it deathly white with a hint of green around his nose. Deep lines of pain bracketed his mouth.
She instinctively knew that he needed space and he needed privacy, and he needed it now.
She turned back to the people who were crowding around them; she kept a calm smile on her face as she blocked their view of Luke. “Thank you so much, everyone, for your kindness and concern. We’re fine. Just need a little space and privacy to process what just happened.”
“Well,” the aging love child in purple said, “I can tell you what happened. I saw the whole thing! You were walking down the street—”
“I mean, process it in a deep, fundamental way, on the spiritual plane,” Maggie said, attempting to phrase it in a way the woman would empathize with, as she gently steered her away from Luke. “And for that, we need to be alone. We’re quite shaken, as you can imagine, and need a little quiet and calm.”
“Oh,” the woman said, her wrinkled face beaming at Maggie. “I understand completely, bless your little heart. You’re taking my good advice, aren’t you? I guarantee you,” the woman said, waggling her bushy eyebrows at Maggie and giving her a sturdy nudge in the ribs with her elbow, “you won’t regret it. He looks like he’s very good in the sack, and mark my words, I’m never wro
ng about these things.” She gestured for Maggie to lean closer. “And,” she said in a hoarse whisper, “I took a quick look at the bulge in his pants. The man’s got a long dong. So you enjoy, honey. I would be all over that, if he would have me.” She cackled and started shooing bystanders away. “Move along,” she hollered. “Everybody, show’s over! Nothing to see here.” She glanced back at Maggie like a happy cocker spaniel, as if to say, How am I doing?
Thank you, Maggie mouthed, then turned back to deal with Luke.
Twenty-seven
HE HAD EXPECTED her to hand him the gel ice pack. He was just grateful that he hadn’t had to take the extra steps to the kitchen and his freezer. However, Maggie bent over him and wrapped it around his thigh, her long, wavy hair falling forward, first caressing his cheek, then his shoulder.
He didn’t know what surprised him more: the fact that the simple touch of her silky hair could cause such an intense response, especially given the pain he was in, or that the heat emanating from his cock didn’t cause his jeans to burst into flames.
He gritted his teeth while she secured the ice pack with a kitchen towel. The initial bite of cold made him inhale. Yeah, she still smells like sweet tea and honeysuckle. Being this close to her without reaching out was killing him.
“Are you okay?” she said, her eyes dark with concern. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” he said. “I’m fine. Thanks. I really appreciate your help.”
“Your color’s better. How are you feeling?”
“So much better. Thanks.” Luke sighed, uncurling his fists, forcing himself to sink back into his sofa rather than lean forward to taste her lips. He shut his eyes, tried to wrestle his body into some semblance of control. Tried to focus on letting the numbing cold of the large gel ice pack sink into his thigh. “And thanks for driving, too.”
“No problem. It was the least I could do.” She paused. “You know, I was wondering if maybe that woman was right. That car looked like it was intent on mowing us down. Crazy, huh? I’ve read about that kind of thing in the paper, but never expected a random act of violence to happen to me.”
The jury was out on whether it had been random or not. He’d be going back to Becca’s once he dropped Maggie off. If it had been an attempted hit, the SUV would’ve been waiting nearby for them to come out of the shop. He’d ask around, might find tire-track marks, as the vehicle was moving fast; he could take an imprint—
The slide of fabric as Maggie shifted distracted him from his thoughts. He wished he were that fabric, sliding across her skin.
“Anyway,” she whispered, “thank you for saving me,” and then her warm lips brushed against his mouth, soft, tentative. Luke froze. His heart kicked up to a gallop in his chest. A brief caress, but sweet mother of God, it was the most erotic thing that had happened to him in a very long time.
He held still, hoping, praying, and yes, there she was again. He could feel her hovering an inch or so from his mouth, her sweet, warm breath mingling with his.
And then she kissed him once more, bolder this time, with more warmth, more hunger. Her hand caressed his cheek, then slid up to tangle in his hair. The tip of her tongue tasted his lips with a slight moan against his mouth, and he was undone.
* * *
• • •
SHE WAS DROWNING in sensations. This, she thought triumphantly, deepening the kiss. This is what the magazines were talking about! She was tingling all over, liquid warmth pulsing through her limbs, making them feel languorous, heavy, and alive all at once. Good God, she thought. If a kiss can be this good, imagine what this man could make you feel in bed. He tasted so good, so right. Another moan escaped, and a far-off part of her brain marveled, I never make noise. Ever.
She had made that mistake only once. Brett had gotten angry, said she was acting like a slut. So she had learned to lie on the bed, quiet and unmoving, him working in and out, on top and inside her. And with that memory came defiance and an idea. A wonderful, daring, thrilling idea. I’m going to seize that word back, she thought gleefully. If enjoying the sensations in my body means I’m a slut, then count me in! I’m going to revel and delight in being a slut, because this is my body, and I am going to do what I want, taste what I want, and touch what I want!
* * *
• • •
HOLY SHIT! LUKE’S eyes snapped open. She had moved from his mouth to the side of his neck, bestowing little licks and bites and kisses. But her hand—her hand seemed to be journeying downward to—holy fuck.
She was stroking him now. Jesus Christ. He arched up, his breath sounding like a damn freight train. He was going to lose it like a green schoolboy. “Honey . . . Maggie . . .” He grabbed her hand, stilled it.
“What?” she murmured, her voice low and husky. She caught her plump lower lip between her teeth, and her pelvis moved, undulating slightly as if she was trying to find release.
“I understand how you’re feeling. I’m feeling it, too. But you need to be aware of the reason why.” His throbbing dick was cursing the fact that he had chosen this moment to be honorable. “Having a near-death experience can affect people in different ways. One of those aftereffects is heightened sexual arousal. Being in a car accident, at a funeral, the grief of losing someone important to you: all of these can act as a powerful aphrodisiac—”
“I don’t care,” she said with a sexy-as-fuck breathy moan. He could feel her breasts against his chest and his shoulder.
“But you will care, Maggie. It’s just your body and mind’s way of trying to counteract what just happened.” It was getting increasingly difficult to focus, to get through what needed to be said. “Not only nearly being run down this afternoon, but—”
Her other hand was starting a slow, teasing downward descent.
He grabbed it, looked her in the face.
“Maggie, Maggie, listen to me. You’re also processing the sudden and unexpected loss of your fiancé and the pain and stress and grief that that brings.”
“No, I’m not.” But pain and embarrassment flickered across her face.
“You are.”
“Oh,” she said, shrinking into herself like a wounded animal, the color draining from her face. “You don’t want me,” she said in a barely there whisper.
“No,” he said hastily. Vehemently. “That’s not it. One hundred percent, I want you.” He slapped her hand back on the hard mass in his jeans. “Feel that. That is a man who desperately wants you. But you’re vulnerable. And I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
He could see the color seep back into her face.
“So you do want me?”
“Baby, I’m burning for you.”
“Well, then,” she said, a smile blooming, “first, with regard to my ex, I am so over him.” She lifted his hand to her mouth and gently kissed his knuckles, then placed his hand along the back of the sofa. “But it’s sweet of you to be concerned.” She picked up his other hand, tenderly kissed it, and placed it, too, along the back of the sofa.
“Stay there, okay?” she said, leaning in and taking possession of his mouth. “I just want to touch you,” she breathed against his lips. “That’s all. Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not scared—”
“Oh, good. Then you’ll stay. I’m so glad.” She slid her hand down his body until she was cupping him again. “And you don’t have to worry about taking advantage of me, okay?” She was stroking him now through his jeans, tracing the shape of his erection. “You can erase that worry from your mind, because right now, I’m the one who’s taking advantage of you.”
Luke had never in his life shot off in his pants, but he was getting damned close. “Baby,” he ground out, frantic now with need, struggling to keep his cock in line. “Maggie, honey. You can’t keep this up.”
“Sure, I can.”
“No. You gotta . . . stop now, hon . . . I’m gonna come.�
� Hands fisted, tendons in his neck straining, every cell in his body screamed for release.
“Oh.” Her voice was a breathy whisper. “I wanna see.” Her hands began fumbling with the buttons on his Levi’s. “I wanna see what it looks like. Will you let me?” She looked up at him, face flushed, her pupils so enormous they almost obliterated her irises. All shyness, all caution, all sorrow had vanished. “Please . . . please let me,” she pleaded. “I’ve never seen a cock come before.”
Hearing that plea come out of her mouth just about did him in. “But,” he managed to croak, “I thought . . . you weren’t”—so hard to bring enough blood back to his brain to form coherent sentences—“looking for . . . a relationship. Wanted”—he felt like he was running a marathon—“just to . . . be friends.” He was trying so hard to be honorable, to do the right thing.
“I know,” she said, smiling at him, looking totally adorable and impish. “And we will be just friends.” A sly, mischievous expression danced across her face. “But maybe you could be a friend who lets me see his cock come? Just this once, okay? You’d be doing me a huge favor.”
The incongruity of that statement forced a choked laugh out of him.
“Okay,” he said, surprising himself. He might burn in hell for this, but at this point he was willing to pay the price. “If you’re certain you want to, but for the record, I’m not sure who is doing the favor for whom.”
She had his fly open now and was peeling his jeans back. She shoved his jeans and his briefs down to reveal his thick, throbbing boner.
“Oh my . . .” She wasn’t looking at his face anymore. All her attention was focused on what she held in her hands. She ran her fingers lightly along the swollen, engorged shaft that was straining toward her. She laughed softly. “I didn’t expect it to be quite so massive.” She looked up at him. “Would it be all right if I . . . ?”
He wasn’t sure what her question was about, but she must have taken his moan for assent, because she bent over and placed a soft kiss on the hot head of his cock, her hair draped forward, brushing against his exposed hips and balls.
