Intimate Stranger

by Jan Springer

  Emily closed her eyes and rubbed the tense muscles cramping painfully throughout her neck. Another question nagged at her. Why had Chance once again said “Let’s go home” before leaving Jake’s Bar and Grill?

  He said those words as if he already owned her place. Why didn’t he just come right out and tell her he wanted to buy her home?

  How could he afford it? The man had admitted he’d hitchhiked up here for heaven’s sake. If he had money, then surely he would have found a safer form of transportation.

  What was with the gun? She’d always disliked guns. Probably because she’d grown up in a country where guns just weren’t readily used except for hunting. Maybe if she’d grown up south of the border, she wouldn’t be so frightened of them.

  Nothing to fear but fear itself, her uncle Jeb had always told her when he’d captured her disapproving glances while he’d cleaned his hunting rifle. With grave patience he’d explain to her how people feared guns only because they weren’t familiar with them or educated about how to use them. When people knew how to handle them and how to store them safely, the fear subsided into a sensible respect for the weapon he’d said.

  She didn’t believe it.

  In her reporter days she’d seen the damage a bullet did to a body. Gangland shootings where the back of a teenager’s head had been blown away or a child who’d accidentally shot himself or someone else because a parent hadn’t stored the gun properly.

  Now Chance, the man who’d so effectively kissed her as she’d never been kissed before, a man who looked at her with such tenderness in his eyes, a man who admitted he wanted to make love to her, also carried a deadly weapon. But, boy oh boy, did he know how to kiss.

  She found herself moaning out loud as her pussy throbbed with the need to have Chance’s cock sliding into her. God, she wanted him to fuck her. She wanted his mouth on her pussy. His cock in her mouth. Maybe even in her ass.

  Her breath hitched at that last thought. She hadn’t thought this way since Steve. Hadn’t felt this intense and aroused for years. With Chance being a stranger, she found herself being bold as to what she wanted. Kissing him back just as fiercely as he kissed her. Pushed her tongue into his mouth, letting him know she wanted their tongues to mate. Wanted to mate with him. Had wanted to take him right there up against the wall where anyone could have come in.

  Thankfully it had been Garrett who’d found them. Any other person would have gossiped about the intense kiss to the whole province. She didn’t want Skip to hear she’d been unfaithful. At least not through local gossip. She would have to tell him in person.

  Would have to acknowledge she had doubts about marrying him. Maybe tell him she was sexually attracted to Chance. No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t hurt Skip that way. It wasn’t as if she were in love with Chance. It was more like lust, right?

  Lust. Yes, that’s it. It was the same kind of raw, powerful feelings she’d had for Steve right off the bat. And look where that had gotten her. A broken heart.

  No, she didn’t want to go through that intense love again.

  The sound of hammering stopped the route her thoughts were going and she found herself smiling despite her anger at him. He certainly did have a way with his hands. He’d worked straight through dinner. Then he’d switched on the floodlights, claiming he wanted to get the job done tonight so they could go seaweeding tomorrow without worrying about the dock heading out to sea. As if it would. The dock had been falling apart for years, bit by bit, and still it stayed.

  She knew there was another reason he stayed outdoors and away from her. Obviously he didn’t want to pick up where they’d left off when Garrett Rustico had interrupted them at Jake’s Bar and Grill. She couldn’t blame him for staying away. He probably thought she was a loose woman, allowing him to kiss her. Especially since she’d already allowed another man to lay claim to her by agreeing to marry him.

  * * * * *

  When he finally laid the hammer to rest inside the toolbox, Chance’s muscles were aching. Night had dropped a few hours ago and a cold chill sifted through the misty air. From his perch inside the tilted wood shed where he kept all the tools and building supplies, he peered through the open door up at the towering octagonal lighthouse and the white clapboard keeper’s house nestled snugly beneath the tower’s shadow. To his disappointment a buttery glow shone from Emily’s bedroom windows.

  No doubt she’d be pecking away at the keyboard, trying out some new passwords. Too bad with all the excitement today they’d forgotten to pick up the knit wool. He’d been hoping knitting baby clothes for the upcoming arrivals would keep her off the computer.

  It wouldn’t have kept her anger at bay during their return trip from town. She had every right to be red-hot mad at him. He’d pulled a gun on her. He’d pressed himself against her. Kissed her. Threatened to make love to her.

  On the boat back here he lied like hell when he’d told her she was merely a bad habit to him. A bad habit he had to break.

  She’d tried to conceal her hurt by keeping a stiff, calm voice, but he’d always been able to see her true emotions. It was now quite obvious to him she didn’t love Skip. For God’s sake she had just finished trying on the wedding dress she’d be wearing down the aisle for another man when he’d told her he was going to kiss her. She’d merely accepted her fate with a lovely smile on her lips and kissed him back with such a fierce passion he knew she was having doubts about the upcoming nuptials.

  If she was in love with another man, she would never behave this way. Instead, she would be kicking and scratching out Chance’s eyes.

  Hell, he should march right up there and take what was rightfully his. And Emily belonged to him. He wanted her so bad his entire body ached with a maddening craving to make love to her. He’d blown any chance of keeping her out of the line of fire by announcing his prison name to the entire fairgrounds the other day. If Skip was behind his incarceration, then he would know that name. He would know Chance was Steve. He would know Steve would want his wife back.

  So why had he sent a lowly henchman to the lighthouse to search the place? How would they know he kept his laptop in the wall up there? Why hadn’t they found it when they’d broken in years ago? He sure hadn’t told anyone. Even the beatings and threats he’d received behind bars hadn’t made him spill the truth.

  For if he had, they would have killed him early on in his incarceration. At least that’s what he’d been betting on. Until they decided he was better off being killed for his body parts and placed into a private transplant hospital after getting shot in prison last year. That’s where his brothers had found him.

  And he hadn’t been happier. Until he saw Emily the other night. His sweet wife, who had no idea who he was. He’d hoped to keep it that way. Now, however, after kissing her, after feeling her soft curves press against him, he wasn’t sure he could keep his secret.

  He stepped through the open shed doorway and shivered as the cold ocean air sliced through him. The clang of a buoy out in the water made him peer across the calm dark blue ocean for anything suspicious.

  The feeling of being watched had disintegrated upon leaving town, but it didn’t mean they weren’t out there. Watching. Waiting.

  An icy sensation crept up his spine as he remembered Garrett’s description of the man he’d spotted following Chance into Jake’s Bar and Grill. The man could have been anyone. If Chance had paid attention to his finely tuned survival instincts, instincts that had kept him alive through the brutal horrors he’d experienced over the past few years, he might have actually caught the culprit following him. Instead, he’d been thinking about Emily, the darn wedding dress and reminiscing about the past.

  Clearly being around her wasn’t in either of their best interests. He needed to figure out a way to persuade Emily to go and stay with Daniel and Jo before these people made their next move. He could trust his brothers to protect her, and it was up to him to get rid of the danger.

  Chance leaned over and picked u
p the gun from the picnic table where he’d left it for easy access. Checking to make sure the safety was on, he shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. Jeans that had once belonged to him. He’d been surprised to discover Emily had kept them. Another indication she hadn’t totally forgotten him.

  A white twinkle far out to sea captured Chance’s attention and he automatically stiffened.

  A boat?

  He narrowed his eyes and squinted through the thin trails of mist forming over the water. He couldn’t take any chances. Settling himself on the picnic table, he watched and waited, all the while thinking about Garrett’s description of the man he’d seen. If the identification was correct, then the break-in and the guy following him in town was just the tip of a fast-approaching tidal wave with more bad things on the way.

  * * * * *

  “You sure you’re up to this?” Emily laughed as she watched Chance pull the long-handled seaweed rake through the shallow ocean waters from his perch at the stern of Sweet Lies. At her question, the frown of concentration he toted vanished and he lifted his head. To her surprise his eyes shone with excitement.

  “This is great!” he replied.

  Immediately he returned to his job of raking the seaweed, the cute frown of concentration back on his face, the exquisite muscles in his arms bulging very nicely beneath his turtleneck stealing her breath clean out of her lungs. Within a few seconds he slapped his first haul onto the deck.

  “Hey, not bad for the first time.” Emily chuckled as she leaned over and ran her fingers through the slippery brown sea plants. “Still good quality for this late in the season. Probably because of the excess of sunny days and the unusually warm ocean temperatures this time of the year.”

  “Now what do we do with it?” Chance asked.

  “Haul it into the middle of the net I’ve laid out here on the deck and then when there’s a huge heap at the end of the day, I use the winch and hoist it up. Then we bring it into town.”

  “Sounds like a simple enough way to earn a living.”

  Emily grinned. “You won’t be saying that after ten hours of work.”

  “Ten hours?” He gaped in disbelief.

  “That’s not including an hour lunch break and two fifteen minute breaks or the ride back to town.”

  He grinned and eyes sparkled now with amusement.

  “I think I catch your drift.”

  “Not to worry. Since it’s your first day out, I’ll only work you eight hours. How’s that?”

  “You’re a slave driver,” he grumbled beneath the teasing look he threw her way.

  She found herself inhaling when his muscles strained against his turtleneck again as he hoisted the seaweed-laden rake into the air and maneuvered the seaweed into the middle of the net where he dumped it.

  He’d come in late last night. Her heart had thumped a mile a minute as she’d listened to his footsteps pad around the kitchen. The sound of the microwave whirring had quickly followed and she knew he’d found the supper she’d prepared for him and left in the refrigerator.

  In the darkness of the bedroom, she’d lain in bed listening to Chance’s footsteps as he hesitated at her bedroom door. Part of her had hoped he would come in and make love to her, follow through on those words he’d murmured while they’d kissed in Jake’s Bar.

  Telling her he wanted to make love to her. Wanted to fuck her hard and deep. And that he wanted his cock in her mouth. She’d never done oral with Steve. Had come close that one night under the wharf but she’d chickened out.

  Both disappointment and relief slammed through her when she heard him go for a shower and then upstairs to bed. After he’d gone up, she’d stared at the wedding portrait, remembering the other night when she’d been playing that Halloween romance ritual and spied Steve’s face over her shoulder in the mirror because of the moonlight splashing on his side of the wedding photo.

  In a way the ritual had come true, hadn’t it? Chance seemed so similar to Steve. In the foods he liked. The way he touched her back when he led her somewhere. He’d even picked her and Steve’s song during the dance. How uncanny was that?

  And the way he kissed. Oh yes, he definitely kissed like Steve. Maybe even more powerfully. More passionately. Demanding in the way he pressed her erection against her. Not really the way she’d think a shy man would behave with a woman he’d just met.

  Damned if she’d awoken all hot and tense again this morning. Scorching dreams of Chance doing wicked things to her had her masturbating again under the covers. She didn’t know how much more of this tension she could take either. Every time she looked at Chance she wanted to touch him. Wanted to relive her scorching dreams, especially the dance dream where they were both naked and dancing beneath the silver stars. She’d had that dream again last night, except Steve hadn’t taken over Chance’s place. This time it had been just Chance and his gorgeous cock, pumping into her pussy over and over again.

  “I hear seaweed is pretty good fertilizer for farmers. Is that where this is going?”

  Oh God, she had to stop thinking sex. Stop!

  Taking a deep breath of the cool air to steady her nerves, she continued raking the seaweed as she spoke. She didn’t want him to know how much she’d been lusting after the guy. Didn’t want him to know she’d been dreaming about fucking him either.

  But that kiss sure was forethought in her mind and she wished she could have more of it. More of him.

  Clearing her throat, she began her explanation.

  “Some of it goes to farmers so they can replenish the trace minerals they lose due to the conventional over-fertilization with chemicals. The rest depends on what orders are waiting in town at my seaweed factory.”

  “Your seaweed factory?”

  “Actually I own half of it.”

  “The McCullens didn’t tell me you owned a factory.”

  “They don’t know. I haven’t told them yet. I wasn’t sure it was going to fly.”

  “But it is, isn’t it?”

  “This summer has been fabulous, we’ve got tons of orders. That’s why we’re out here so late in the season. I’m trying to make profits look good so my partner Jen and I can get a bank loan and purchase a second fishing boat next spring. We’re going to hire someone to look after the factory and Jen wants to captain Sweet Lies. Garrett Rustico, you met him at Jake’s yesterday, has expressed interest in captaining the new boat if we get one.”

  “You’re kidding? I thought he was a cop?”

  “He is. I might add you two appeared quite chummy yesterday. Hit it off quickly, didn’t you?”

  “He’s a likable fellow. What else can they use this stuff for?” Chance eyed the seaweed in the net. Obviously he was changing the subject. Okay, she’d let him off the hook this time.

  “Oh, Mr. Donovan, haven’t you heard?”

  Chance shook his head.

  “Times have changed. Seaweed is not only good for the farmers, it’s good for your body. Now we harvest seaweed as sea vegetables.”

  “Sea vegetables?” He twisted his face into a sour grimace and Emily had to laugh.

  “Sea vegetables are an excellent source of iron, Vitamin A and Vitamin B12, all of which are found in our fruits and vegetables. It’s also high in fiber and is a good source of protein.”

  Chance looked doubtfully at the clump of seaweed in the net.

  “This ugly stuff? Hardly looks appetizing.”

  “I didn’t get any complaints from you the other night or at breakfast this morning when you devoured more of the pie.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “I hope you brought some of it along?”

  “I did.”

  He rubbed his hands together with appreciation. “Yum. Let’s break into it now.”

  Emily grinned.

  “News flash. The vitamins you ingested at breakfast will get you through to lunch.”

  “A guy can try, can’t he? What else is it good for?”

  “Are you asking for a lesson in the uses of seaweed?�
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  “It might give me an incentive to work harder.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Emily’s heart slammed up against her chest at that eyebrow wiggle. So much like Steve. He used to do that too. God, she simply had to stop comparing the two. They were separate men. She needed to remember that fact because it wasn’t healthy to relieve the past through Chance. The reason he was so much like Steve was why she felt so attracted to him. If she could remember that fact she’d be okay.

  “Well, it’s used as a thickener in soaps, shampoos, ice cream and other foods. It’s a million-dollar-plus industry on Prince Edward Island and other coastal provinces and states. And it’s also used in cosmetics and skin-care products. Did you know that a Japanese conglomerate invented a way of extracting algin molecules that bind tightly to water and they’ll be used to create longer-lasting lipstick?”

  “I don’t know what you said about the Japanese scientific jargon, although I do know you don’t need any lipstick.”

  She glanced up at his gentle voice. His eyes suddenly seemed a richer blue and she felt his warm breath sear her lips. Only a cool ocean breeze fought the sizzling sparks blazing between them. Despite her earlier self argument to remind herself he wasn’t Steve, she found herself anticipating another kiss like yesterday. Maybe it would even go further?

  “You look pretty damn good the natural way.” Without saying another word he broke the intense gaze and disappointment shot through her as he returned to the stern where he sliced the rake back into the shallow water where she’d anchored the boat.

  Emily sighed heavily at the interaction that had just taken place between them. What in the world was she going to do?

  She lifted her rake over the port side and found it difficult to concentrate on scanning the rocky bottom of the ocean with him around. Whenever he moved, she couldn’t help but watch his muscular arms or long legs or his cute frown of concentration. She wished it was summer and hotter than blazes. Then he’d remove his shirt and she could enjoy the scenery even more.

  Warmth blushed across her face and it sure wasn’t from the autumn sun. Her fingers tightened on her rake. She had better keep her mind and her eyes on the job and her thoughts on whether she truly wanted that wedding in a few weeks’ time.