by Jan Springer
A bright smile lit up her face and he felt his cock tighten with need as her dimples splashed across her cheeks again. Oh man, he wanted her so bad. Just like the old days. Heck, he even more than the old days.
She laughed, and then said, “Okay, you better eat that piece you have on the plate because you are going to need all your energy tomorrow.”
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Or should I ask?”
For a moment she looked shy, just like the old days, and it brought such a tender ache to his heart he almost groaned out loud.
“Well,” she said slowly, “tomorrow you’re going on a seaweed harvest.”
Seaweed harvest? He’d never gone on one before. Should be interesting.
“Excellent. Then you can bake me more pies.”
Using his fork, he chopped off another piece of the heavenly smelling desert.
“Can you afford the price?” She smirked.
“I’m sure we can come to some sort of suitable arrangement.”
He shoved a forkful of the sweet treat into his mouth, and when he looked at her, he didn’t miss the tinge of pink that swept across her cheeks before she stood and hurried away to retrieve another cup of coffee.
Chapter Six
“Lucas,” Emily whispered. Lucas was the name Steve and she had planned on naming their firstborn son.
She quickly typed the name into Steve’s laptop computer and hit the enter key.
The amber-on-gray screen produced two words, Access Denied. She frowned for a moment and then her face lit up with a smile.
“Elizabeth.” She typed in the name they’d picked for their firstborn daughter.
The machine whirred and the same two words flashed across the screen. Access Denied. She added the two names to the piece of paper containing the growing list of names she’d already tried as a password into the laptop.
“What else could he have used?” She scrunched her brows together and concentrated for the hundredth time on what had been going on in their lives at the time Steve died.
Steve’s boss at the time, Helena Whitney, had told her Steve hadn’t been working on any dangerous assignments. Back then, Emily hadn’t prodded Helena any further on what assignments he had actually been working on because Emily had been grieving over his death and then she’d gone to Mexico with Daniel. When she’d come back home, she’d been preoccupied in earning a living now that most of her savings had been used up.
Perhaps Steve had used a password from one of the stories he’d been working on at the time?
Emily sighed and shook her head. No, the passwords in those areas were endless. She was positive he would have used a personal password. Something near and dear to his heart. She’d already used everyone she knew and their birthdays.
Absently she twisted her finger through a few strands of hair that fell over her face and remembered the last time Steve had twisted his fingers through her hair.
They’d been standing on their dock, right below the lighthouse, saying goodbye on the day he’d gone off to quit his job…
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right here all alone for one night?” he whispered softly against her ear as his fingers sifted through her hair to cup the back of her head.
“It’ll be torture tonight, but it’ll be twice as sweet when you come home tomorrow.”
“Coming home. Mmmmm. I like the sound of that.” He smiled, revealing a flash of white teeth.
She didn’t smile back at him. The eerie uneasiness dogging her every waking hour since having a nightmare a couple of nights ago that he was going to die. But knowing he was safe hadn’t diminished the feeling she was going to lose him. The nightmare or perhaps it had been a premonition had been so violent in its emotions. So devoid of any visions. So intense and vivid she’d awoken in a sweat, totally convinced she was alone and he was dead. She’d been surprised and then relieved to find him sleeping soundly beside her.
The eerie uneasiness dogging her every waving hour since she’d had that nightmare hadn’t faded. If anything, her fear for his safety was growing by the minute. Everything in the past few weeks had been too perfect. She’d finally convinced him to quit his dangerous job as an investigative journalist and move back here to Shipwreck Island. He’d finally agreed two nights ago in the shower that they wouldn’t use condoms anymore. He finally wanted kids.
She was too happy when he told her that. From past experience when things went along too smoothly, something tragic always happened to ruin her happiness.
Steve’s hand loosened from her hair and curled gently around her shoulder. He frowned at her. “Emmie? You’ve been too quiet this morning. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just going to miss you like crazy,” she admitted. She really should tell him about her premonition. Tell him to stay home. But she wanted him to quit and understood he had to do that in person. After giving his resignation to Helena, he promised to bring back a whole bunch of wool so she could get started on knitting clothes for their cute babies.
Steve’s lips tilted upward again and those generous lines around his mouth popped up, making Emily catch her breath.
“I’ll be back before you can even blink with that knitting wool.” God, how did he always know what she was thinking? His right hand lifted from her shoulder and he brushed his warm thumb against the side of her mouth. “Smile for me so I can see those cute dimples one more time.”
She forced herself to smile.
“That’s better. Now hold that smile because I want to see it there when I get back tomorrow. We can make love again under the wharf like the other night. Keep the candles burning for me so I can find my way in the fog.” His hand dropped away from where he’d been caressing her mouth and he made a move toward Sweet Lies.
“Wait!”
At her shout he turned back around.
“Are you wearing that Saint Christopher medallion I gave you last week for luck?”
“You’re all the luck I need, babe,” he said, and moved closer. His masculine smell wrapped around her senses, sparking all those arousal centers in her body.
“I’m serious, Steve.”
His eyebrows burrowed into a concerned frown.
“Why so glum? Yes, I’m wearing it. You told me its good luck and gives safety to travelers.”
He pulled down his turtleneck and relief splashed through her as he drew out the old gold medallion that had once belonged to her uncle, turned it over and read the inscription.
“To Steve. Your Endearment Always. Love, Emily. Don’t worry, sweetness. I’ll keep it on me for as long as you want.” He leaned close to her, their lips inches from each other. His eyes sparkled warmly and suddenly all she wanted to do was kiss him and lose herself in the welcome warmth of his strong, hard body. To forget this other creepy feeling she had of him dying.
“I know I shouldn’t say anything and I know you’re going to think I’m probably a nutcase and overreacting, but I have a bad feeling about you going off this time. I want you to be careful.”
“Hey, I’m only quitting my job. Nothing is going to happen to me. And you aren’t a nutcase. Maybe you’re already pregnant and your hormones are kicking in?”
Emily laughed shakily at his suggestion.
“I don’t think hormones click in that quickly.”
A roaring wave crashed against the pier, making them both stumble.
“I guess I’ll have to fix the dock when I get back.”
“You can fix other things too,” she said softly.
“We’ll continue our plans on making a baby when I get back, okay?”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he vowed, and planted a mind-busting kiss on her mouth, making her knees literally feel weak and her body so hot for him she almost grabbed him by the pants, insisting they have a quickie right here on the dock.
But he pulled away.
“Have those candles waiting on me when I get back. And lots of food too. I’m going to need all t
he energy I can get in making that baby.”
He winked and she almost cried when she watched him hop onto the tugboat her uncle had named Sweet Lies. A moment later the boat’s engine rumbled to life. From the wheelhouse he threw her a quick wave out the salt-crusted window. She waved back to him and kept waving until he disappeared around the point.
It was the last time she ever saw him.
Emily sighed as sadness swept through her. Now was not the time to think about Steve, she chastised herself. Now was the time to think of the right password.
Leaning back against her chair, she gazed thoughtfully at the blinking amber cursor. An idea hit her like a ton of bricks.
“Of course. Sweet Lies,” she whispered beneath her breath. “The password is Sweet Lies, the tugboat. How could I have been so stupid?”
Excitement surged and she quickly typed in her boat’s name then hit the enter key. The computer whirred a few seconds then stopped.
Access Denied.
Dammit! It was going to be a long night.
* * * * *
Chance stared at the dim light escaping beneath Emily’s bedroom door. No one had to tell him what she was still doing up at this ungodly hour of one a.m. She was trying to crack the password.
Unless…
A shiver of unease slipped down his back. Unless she’d already guessed it and gained access to the information? Chance leaned forward and pressed his ear against the door. The distant sound of Emily’s fingertips busily pounding away at the keyboard sounded like music to his ears. She was still trying to crack it. He would have been worried if she’d been quiet.
He ran a hand over his bristly chin as he remembered tonight’s intrusion up in the lighthouse tower. When he’d seen his laptop computer lying on the floor of the observation room, he’d just about passed out from the shock. All the horrible years of prison life, of being thought dead, of being forced to use a false name faded away and he remembered when he’d slid aside the wall tile, slipped his heavy laptop up onto the thick log support beam and slid the tile back into place.
He hadn’t meant for the wall to be a hiding place. He’d placed the computer up there so he wouldn’t have to lug it down the long flight of stairs back into the house. He’d made a duplicate of the disc someone had dropped on the doorstep that morning then left the original in the slot, hoping to get a look at it when he came back. He thought he’d only be gone twenty-four hours. Instead he’d been gone for years.
Everything from that day was a blur due to the head injury he’d received complements of a fist-happy jail guard. He did remember the spot where he’d put the laptop. Remembered the urgency to get the disc to Skip. Emily’s nervousness that morning. But after that, things remained hazy from that day until he woke up in a prison infirmary weeks later.
He’d had years to try to figure out what in the world the people who held him prisoner wanted, and it always led back to the mysterious disc he’d found that morning on the front doorstep of the lighthouse. The disc had piqued his interest the way it had shown up.
He’d password protected the disc and backed it up onto his laptop then made another backup disc. He’d pocketed the backup, left the original in the drive and stashed the laptop in the secret wall compartment.
His gaze dropped to the light still seeping out from beneath Emily’s bedroom door. Damn it. He wanted the laptop and that disc. But it looked as if he were in for a long wait.
* * * * *
She was in Chance’s arms again. They were dancing. And he was whirling her around as if they were both floating on air. Instead of being on the dance floor in the fair tent, they were here in her home, in the living room.
Their song, hers and Steve’s, hers and Chance’s, blared from the radio. Chance held her so perfectly, his embrace so strong and safe that her heart was suspended in her chest, making it hard for her to breathe from the excitement.
“Your dancing steps have improved.”
He smiled at her compliment and it was the most genuine smile she’d ever seen. It seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him, from an area in his soul he reserved specifically for her. It was a sexy, teasing smile that melted into her such contentment, such happiness that she wondered why she felt so comfortable in his arms. So welcome. As if she should know who he was. As if she’d danced with him many times in the past. But that was crazy. She’d only met him.
“I want to dance and make love to you at the same time.”
His soft whisper caressed her ear and she blinked with surprise at what he’d just said. He wanted to make love to her? Right here in her living room? While dancing?
Erotic tingles swept through her as he chuckled and nibbled on her right earlobe. His hands left her waist and slid up her sides to cup against the outsides of her breasts.
“Hmm, that feels good,” she whispered as the heat seeped into her from his palms. She arched closer to him, loving his touch. Trailing her hands off his powerful shoulders, she splayed her palms across his steel-muscled chest. She didn’t seem surprised to discover he wore no shirt. As a matter of fact, he wore no clothing and neither did she.
And it felt so right to be naked with him, a perfect stranger.
His flesh seared against hers. His body felt like an intoxicating flame, a scorching heat, and she suddenly couldn’t get enough of him. Something deep inside her pussy awakened and an uncontrollable shiver of lust shifted through her, consuming her, driving her toward a goal she knew she had no control over.
And that goal was Chance. She wanted him. Now. Wanted his cock pumping into her while they danced.
She hissed as his rock-hard cock head pressed against her sensitive clit. He used it as if it were a finger, massaging her clit with sensual assault, up and down, until she was undulating and moaning against his mouth. She wanted to lose herself in his touch. Lose herself in these flames of lust as they burst through her with lightning speed.
His hands left her breasts and skimmed down her sides like two fiery blades of sensations.
Reaching behind her, he cupped her ass.
“I want you now, baby,” he groaned.
He kissed her. His mouth a hot, restless brand on her lips. His kiss sizzling her nerve endings to life and sending a deep, gnawing hunger straight through her. His blue eyes darkened as he moved his head away from her. His nostrils were flaring, as if he couldn’t get enough of her scent.
“You smell good. Like sex.”
“Interesting choice of words. Considering that’s what we’re doing.” She giggled as his hands held her ass cheeks tighter and he increased the tension on her clitoris.
Breathing harshly, she shuddered as swells of pleasure swept around her.
“Straddle me,” he moaned against her mouth.
Straddle him? Just as she’d sometimes done with Steve? She’d always gotten a deeper penetration in that position. Always got a better climax.
Cupping her ass, he lifted her. She grabbed him by his biceps and she inhaled at the powerful flex of muscles beneath her fingertips. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she inhaled as his cock entered her, stretching her, impaling her.
“You like it, don’t you, Emily,” he growled.
She couldn’t answer. She felt hot. Feverish as he withdrew and stroked into her again, his cock filling her to perfection. Pulsing and thick inside her.
They danced this way. Both melded at the hips to each other. His steps were sure and confident as he carried her with him, twirling them around as if they were dancing on a cloud. She took his mouth, savoring the softness of his lips. Enjoying the hardness of his thrusts from his cock.
With each strong stroke, she felt the tension build between them. With every thrust, her body tightened. And then a killing arousal speared into her, making her moan at its intensity. Everything was ripping apart and she was exploding. Falling into a frenzy of arousal and then suddenly Chance wasn’t there. Instead it was Steve. Alive and well and healthy. His green eyes glittering with love.
/> She welcomed him. Loved him. Lost herself in the pleasure.
Her climax was long and drawn-out.
Perspiration drenched them as they danced and made love under a breathtaking shower of streaking silver stars. She kept kissing him. Moaned into his mouth as he buried himself into her over and over again. Tremors of lust mixed with sensations of love. She felt his body tighten as he neared his orgasm.
He let out a cry, pumped harder, faster, deeper, spilling his seed into her.
And then it was Chance again. They were dancing and loving each other and she’d never felt happier in her life. The happiness gushed through her like a tonic, strong and pure and so beautiful, she swore she would die if it stopped.
Emily came awake on a strangled gasp, her body heated like a furnace and drenched in perspiration, her pussy moist with arousal and her finger buried in her wet vagina.
Oh God, obviously, she’d been masturbating in her sleep again.
She felt on edge. Needed that awesome release from her dream to become reality. Needed that happiness.
Alternating between massaging her ultrasensitive clit and thrusting her finger into her pussy, she sucked in a breath as her velvety muscles clenched and she flowed into the beautiful arousal she’d been dreaming about.
She moved her finger faster, more desperate, yearning to reach that high. In and out like a cock she pumped until she was capturing the mind-numbing pleasure. Demanding the release she craved. Her thighs tightened and her nostrils filled with the scent of her sex, her erotic moans splitting through the quiet of her bedroom.
She rode her hand, allowing the storm to claim her, embrace her and love her. All too soon though, the beauty of her orgasm washed away, thrusting her back to reality and she lay gasping in her bed.
Inside her chest, her heart thudded with maddening speed and soon she heard another sound. A strange knocking, which nibbled through her many layers of satisfaction. When her eyes finally fluttered open, she fully expected the knocking to be Chance tapping on her bedroom door in an effort to wake her and find out what the hell was going on in here with all her moaning.
