Intimate Stranger

by Jan Springer

  Her face flamed with embarrassment, but she realized the noise sifted in from somewhere outside and she realized it was someone hammering. What the heck? Who in the world would be hammering at this hour? Her six o’clock alarm hadn’t even gone off yet.

  When she gazed at the clock, she bolted. It was past nine!

  Good God! With all the excitement of finding Steve’s laptop and staying up late last night, she’d forgotten to set the alarm and had slept in!

  Within minutes she donned her long johns, jeans, turtleneck and a cozy sweater coat then headed outdoors. A blast of cold wind almost blew her right back into the house and she realized today would be too dangerous to go seaweeding.

  Obviously, Chance had realized the same thing and decided to start working on something else. As she picked her way down the steep, rickety rock steps that meandered along the red cliffs, Emily inhaled the bracing wind and wished she was back under her warm covers and masturbating again. Better yet, under the covers with Chance! Her face warmed at that thought and she was glad he’d been outside while she’d been moaning her brains out while finger-fucking herself.

  The air was drenched with the smell of rotting fish and sea salt, and she could feel the grittiness of the sand blowing against her face as she stepped off the last stair and walked several feet on to the boardwalk. Glancing around, she realized the hammering had stopped and Chance was nowhere in sight. But on the sandy beach beside the wharf she spotted the neatly piled lumber. Beams that Steve had purchased days before he died. Chance must have found them where Steve had stored them in the shed and carried them down there.

  The hammering started again, and this time immediately beneath her feet making her jump. She grinned. So that’s where he’d gotten off to. Quietly she walked off the dock and down the grassy slope to the beach.

  She found him.

  Eight feet up.

  He sat proudly on a brace between the pilings. Several long nails protruded from his cute mouth and he was positioning a two-by-four with his large hands. In the other, a hammer was poised, ready to strike a nail. He hadn’t seen her and she couldn’t resist watching him work.

  He wore her husband’s jeans and the jacket Chance had arrived in the other night. The zipper of his jacket was open, showing off a moss green sweater with a light green turtleneck, and she had to admit Steve’s clothes fit Chance very well.

  Bright rays of sunshine zipped between the planks of the dock and washed over him, enhancing the contours of his broad shoulders and the powerful muscles in his legs. Even his hands looked large in the light. Strong fingers clasped the hammer, and yet the gentle way he held the wood made Emily remember how his hot hands had rested along the curve of her hips during last night’s dance. How tenderly his hands had cupped her ass and how she’d straddled his hips while they’d danced in her dreams.

  She blinked those hot thoughts away only to be surprised when a memory from the past floated up from the depths of her brain. Her husband perched beneath this same dock years earlier, sitting almost exactly the same way as Chance was sitting right now. Steve had already begun nailing up some of the braces the day before he left. She’d come down to call him in for supper. When he climbed off the pilings, he’d taken her into his arms and kissed her.

  Steve had always been a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy. Impulsive. Without warning he’d reach out and take her into his arms. Hug her. Kiss her. Tell her how much he loved her.

  She missed those strong hugs and passionate kisses. Missed them with all her heart.

  They’d stripped and made love in the tall grass beside the beach. She could still feel how the cool grass had cradled her body, could still smell the faint scent of Steve’s salt-tinged skin as he pressed his cock into her. The sounds of their lovemaking had intermingled with the cries of the seagulls circling overhead. Late evening sunshine had brought out the golden highlights in Steve’s sandy brown hair too. Just like the morning sun was doing to Chance’s hair.

  An icy shiver of déjà vu rammed through her veins as the sun slipped behind the gray clouds and the golden highlights vanished.

  Trick of the light? Yes that’s all. Besides, lots of men had golden highlights in their sandy brown hair. Didn’t they?

  “Emily?”

  Obviously he’d seen her and was studying her with a curious expression that read What are you thinking, Emily? Before he could ask, she forced a cheery note into her voice.

  “Good morning! Looks like it was my turn to sleep in!” she called out, and headed under the wharf.

  “Happens to the best of us,” he said between the nails still hanging from his lips as he looked down at her. “I heard on the radio there was a high wind warning in effect. Supposed to calm down later this morning. Figured you wouldn’t go out in this weather. So I thought I’d start bracing up the dock before she sets out to sea. That is if it’s okay with the boss?” he asked, giving her that curious look again.

  A luscious smile curled up the corners of his delicious-looking mouth and his piercing eyes held hers for a long moment. Her heart began to pound wildly in her ears and a wonderful warmth splashed through her. Sweet mercy she really did like his smile. There were no lines around his mouth like’s Steve’s mouth had, but he sure did have a similar curve of the lips, and she had the same kind of breathtaking reaction to him as she’d had to her husband.

  She really should keep her distance from him, but how could she when he made her feel so alive?

  “Of course it’s okay. Do you need a hand? Or are you hungry?”

  “Sure. I could use a hand for a few minutes. Unless you think your muscles aren’t up to the task?”

  He was teasing her just as he’d done last night during their dance when he’d joked about her taking him on in next year’s axe-chopping contest. Her mouth suddenly went dry at the thought of what had almost transpired between them while dancing. If the doctor hadn’t interrupted them when he had, she knew without a doubt they would have kissed. At that thought, Emily tried to stifle the warm flush heating her face.

  Gosh, she’d been doing a lot of that this morning, hadn’t she? Blushing up a storm.

  “C’mon, I’ll give you a lift up.” Chance held out his large hand.

  Without hesitation she placed her hand in his and started at the shocking heat as his strong fingers curled around hers. In an instant her brain was sending messages of awareness down to her parts south. Her internal temperature increased as he hoisted her up to sit next to him on the beam.

  Suddenly he was looking at her oddly and she instinctively sensed he’d felt something too. Reluctantly he let go of her hand.

  She inhaled a few breaths in an effort to calm herself. It didn’t work. Especially since she could feel the burn of his thigh pressed intimately against her hip. His ocean blue eyes were mere inches from hers and they seemed…sexual-looking.

  When he turned away and repositioned himself on the beam, he broke the spell and the searing touch between them. Maybe she’d just imagined the sensual heat glowing in his eyes? Maybe she was reacting this way because she’d been too long without a man?

  Yes that had to be it. She’d been too long without and that problem would be solved when she got married. To another man. She needed to keep that one thought squarely in her mind and she’d have no problems with Chance.

  “I noticed some old candles along a couple of the beams down here,” Chance said with softness lacing his voice. Her head snapped around to where a couple dozen votive candles were scattered along the beams.

  Oh my God! She’d totally forgotten about them down here. She’d set a new batch of them beside the old melted ones, anticipating Steve’s return years ago. Some were missing, obviously blown away in the winds, some had tumbled over, but most were still sitting sentry.

  She felt her face flame as she remembered the one night she and Steve spent beneath the pier. That night she’d wanted to take her husband’s cock into her mouth for the first time after reading a sexy scene in an e
rotic romance novel. But she’d chickened out. She’d missed out on so much because of her shyness.

  “They helped Steve find the wharf easier,” she lied.

  That was a lame excuse if ever she came up with one. Ever hear of the lighthouse? his amused look asked.

  Thankfully he didn’t mention it any further.

  “Can you hold the two-by-four up, like this?” he said between the nails as he held up the eight-foot-long piece of wood.

  His gorgeous gaze locked onto her eyes again, regarding her with that sexual look again. She noticed his Adam’s apple bob nervously as he swallowed and then cleared his throat. “I’ll start hammering at the other end.”

  She reached up and, taking great care not to touch his hot fingers, placed her hands on the board.

  “Got it?”

  She nodded again and he maneuvered along the awkward brace like a sure-footed panther, stopping at the other end of the piling then lifted the wood up over his head. He removed a nail from his mouth, set it against the piling, and with a concentrated twist to his oh-so-sexy lips, he began to hammer.

  Emily stared as his sweater hiked up to reveal a flat belly and thin crisp-looking hair that ventured beneath the waist of his jeans to the well-endowed bulge. Her pulse quickened and her face grew hot as she fantasized what it might be like for Chance to make love to her. Would he be gentle? Savage? Or a wild combination of both, like Steve had been?

  The sound of hammering ripped through her fantasy and she sucked in a hot breath. Her eyes drifted up to his sleek arm muscles, straining against the sweater. The hammering stopped. He reached for another nail and in a moment he began to hammer again.

  Strange how a few minutes earlier she’d thought she’d spied those McCullen golden highlights shimmering in his hair. Last night while they’d danced, she’d experienced the eerie déjà vu of having danced with him before.

  When Chance’s fingers settled onto the piece of wood beside her hand, Emily jumped, not realizing he’d scuttled back already.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you. You can let go now. I’ve got it.”

  Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand and watched him pry another nail from his mouth.

  “Daniel mentioned you were getting married soon.”

  His casual question almost knocked Emily off the beam where she was perched.

  “I haven’t noticed any wedding stuff lying around. Ordinarily,” Chance said as he positioned the nail against the wood, “when a couple is getting married, they have wedding things lying around the house.”

  “We have a wedding planner.”

  “I see.” He began hammering again.

  When he finished, he removed the last nail from his mouth and frowned as he looked at her.

  “Isn’t a wedding planner a little…formal? I mean, shouldn’t planning your own wedding be more…intimate? With the couple and their wedding party involved?”

  “We don’t have the time to do it ourselves,” Emily said, suddenly feeling defensive.

  “A couple should make the time for each other.”

  She noted the disapproval in his voice and wondered why his opinion suddenly mattered to her.

  “If a couple doesn’t make the time to plan their own wedding, they sure won’t make the time for each other during their marriage.” He pounded another nail into the brace.

  She had to admit he had a point. “And what about you, Mr. Donovan? Are you speaking from experience? Are you married?” The question slipped out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. The hammering stopped. She looked up to find his warm gaze studying her.

  “I was married. A long time ago.”

  She noted the excruciating sadness in his voice and a vast array of emotions stinging his eyes. Love. Pain. Sadness and guilt.

  “What happened?”

  Oops. Another nosy question. But she couldn’t seem to help it.

  “Unforeseen circumstances ripped us apart.”

  Emily expected him to expand on the “unforeseen circumstances”, but he didn’t.

  “Before we got married, my wife had all kinds of wedding things strewn around our apartment and she encouraged me to participate in helping her to plan.”

  Emily found herself smiling as she remembered all the wedding items littering the apartment before her wedding. “I had to encourage Steve to help me too.”

  “I expect he enjoyed it in the end, like I did.”

  “As a matter of fact, yes he did. Especially the food aspects. He hit all the catering businesses and brought home dozens of brochures outlining the menus. Steve always had a ravenous appetite.” For more than food, Emily silently added.

  “Speaking of ravenous appetite…” He smiled that heart-flipping smile again.

  Ravenous appetite? Did he mean food or sex? Oh dear, she needed to get away from him and straighten her thoughts.

  “I get the hint, Mr. Donovan. I’ll get breakfast going. That is unless you still need me?”

  Please say no.

  Chance didn’t reply. Instead, his lips curled upward into a seductive smile and Emily couldn’t help but look at his mouth, which hovered dangerously close to hers.

  Oh please say yes.

  “Mushroom omelet,” he said after a moment. There was unmistakable passion in his rough voice and it didn’t have anything to do with a passion for food.

  “Is that a request?” she asked, totally aware at how husky her voice sounded.

  He drew in a ragged breath and nodded.

  “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” She made a move to get up and her throat went unbelievably dry as his hot hands spanned possessively around her waist.

  “Let me help you down.” His warm whisper was mere inches from her ear, and when she caught a whiff of his seductive masculine scent, she felt flushed hot and tipsy.

  He hoisted her to her feet and she grabbed his shoulders in an effort to steady herself. Warm muscles flexed beneath her fingers and his breath caressed her lips. In a split second she was bombarded by visions of his hot, moist mouth upon hers, his long fingers touching her in the most intimate of ways. Twisting her nipples until the pleasure-pain burn seared through her. Rubbing her clit. Sliding his fingers inside her vagina.

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” His words snapped her to attention.

  Reluctantly she slid her hands from his shoulders. “I’ll get the omelet going.”

  On trembling legs she hit the sandy beach and almost toppled.

  “Steady as she goes,” he chuckled, yet when she looked up at him there was no laughter shining in his eyes. Just heat and desire.

  Oh boy, what had she gotten herself into by having him stay here with her?

  She felt his heated gaze upon her as she climbed the grassy knoll and onto the stone path that led her up the stone staircase lacing the cliffs to her lighthouse. It took all her strength not to look back, for if she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from inviting him to make love to her right there and then on the beach.

  Chapter Seven

  Chance fought agonizing arousal as he watched her head up the incline. It had been a mistake accepting her invitation to stay here and another mistake to allow her to get so close to him up here on the beams.

  The instant he’d touched her, his senses awakened like an explosion. The familiar hum of arousal slammed through him like lightning bolts and he had to fight to keep his hands off her. When his thigh brushed against her hip, he’d noticed her reaction. He’d always been able to read her emotions in her eyes. And he could see she was as hot for him as he was for her.

  Need flashed brilliantly in her eyes and suddenly he knew without a doubt she hadn’t been with any other man since he’d died. Okay bad choice of words.

  Obviously Skip hadn’t sexually pursued her yet. If he had, Emily would have slept with the man. When Skip wanted a woman, he let her know it and then he bedded her. So why hadn’t he slept with Emily? And why was he getting married? He’d always said
he would never marry. Something wasn’t right with this picture.

  His thoughts drew back to Emily again.

  Being under the wharf with her brought back the memories of them together down here. The hot feel of her naked skin beneath him. The rippling muscles clamping around his cock as he thrust in and out. Her soft gasps as he brought her to climax and then let her go into the exquisite world of pleasure.

  Moments ago when he hauled her to her feet, her hot hands had curled around his shoulders like they’d done in the past. He’d just about given in to the hot desire racing like wildfire through his veins. He wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt.

  The sizzling look in her eyes was unmistakable. Desire. Raw hunger. Lust.

  His guts tightened up in frustration and anger. Yes, he could take her. Just as he’d taken her years earlier, when he’d come home that night and she’d had those candles flickering down here. A few days later his life ended and Chance Donovan’s began.

  That night her cheeks had been flushed from the salty air, her long blonde hair tousled by the cold autumn wind and the look of desire she always held for him had made him the happiest man in the world. Their coupling had always been intense. Sometimes he’d been scared he’d hurt her and yet every time he made love to her, she always matched his savage thrusts.

  This morning the look of need on her face was unmistakable. She wanted him. But it was too early. Hell, who was he kidding? He could never stay. He could never tell her what had happened to him in prison.

  Chance cursed beneath his breath, jumped off the beam onto the beach and yanked up another board.

  Sure, he’d picked up where he’d left off, reinforcing the braces so the dock wouldn’t collapse, but he doubted his marriage would hold up under the strain of Emily knowing the truth. That he’d been out of prison for almost a year now and hadn’t let her know he was alive. He really should get the laptop and leave. But how could he?

  Skip was the only one who Steve had given a copy of that disc to and Emily had a copy in his laptop. She just didn’t know it. Yet.

  And he didn’t want her involved either. Didn’t want her to know he’d been working undercover even after he’d promised her he’d never pursue a dangerous assignment again. She was better off with the warm memories of their marriage, and if he got his way, she’d be better off hating him for doing her a favor and getting rid of her fiancé, the man Chance suspected of violently ripping Emily and himself apart.