Intimate Stranger

by Jan Springer

  And the two of them were big loose ends walking around. Unprotected.

  He must be the biggest idiot for not thinking this entire thing through. He’d slipped away in the middle of the night from Daniel and his wife’s protection without so much as hinting to them he was him coming here or telling them about the laptop. He should have confided in them that the possibility did exist his laptop might not have been stolen.

  Ah hell, he’d screwed up royally. He had no excuses except to say he was selfish and was just thinking about seeing Emily again now that his new face had healed and the violent anger bursts he’d experienced since being freed had cooled with the help of counseling.

  “I’m going to go and try to crack the password again. I think you were right earlier. I don’t think anyone will be out in this weather,” she said, and nodded to the nearest window.

  He followed her gaze to where the rain ran in rivers down the panes. Man, he’d been so involved with checking the house he hadn’t even noticed the weather having gotten worse. Once she went into her bedroom, he’d go for a shower then do a quick run to the adjoining lighthouse and check things in the lamp room and surrounding platform. Just in case he’d missed something.

  He watched as she started toward her bedroom and then halted in the hallway, turning around.

  His breath caught at her beauty.

  “Give me twenty-four hours to crack this password. Then we call for help,” she said, hope flashing in her eyes.

  Twenty-four hours. Not that he had a choice with the phones out. Since Emily only had dial-up access to the internet, there was no internet service available either. He didn’t have much choice but to agree to the twenty-four hours. In the meantime, when he got the chance, he would check to see if the phone lines had been cut or if the lack of communication was simply because of the storm. Truth was, anything could happen in twenty-four hours. If someone had cut the line, he would fix it and call for help.

  “Twenty-four hours,” Chance lied.

  He noticed her shoulders relax slightly at his compliance. It sure felt good to know she trusted him and he felt better being closer to her tonight. Even if it meant sleeping on the couch.

  “I’m going to try to break the code into Steve’s laptop. I’ve put our lunch into the fridge. I’m not hungry, but go ahead and grab whatever you need,” she said.

  Chance nodded and stood.

  “I’m going to take a shower then check around outside. Oh, and before I forget. Do you have an emergency boat out here somewhere?”

  To his disappointment she shook her head. “I did have an old small motorboat until I gave it to Jen a couple of weeks ago since I thought—”

  Her words trailed off and she grimaced.

  He knew what she’d been about to say. She gave her extra boat away because she thought she would be getting married and wouldn’t need it anymore.

  “Just thought I’d ask. Go ahead. Take a nap if you need to too. You look tired. If you need something, come and get me.”

  “Thanks, Chance,” she said softly. Instincts told him she wasn’t saying thanks about him telling her she looked tired.

  “For what?”

  “For being there today. For knowing where to look for the drugs and for getting rid of them before the Coast Guard showed up…and thanks for being here. I feel much better knowing you’re here.”

  Her words made him feel good. Too damn good, considering he’d just put doubts into her head about Skip as well as revealing he’d been working on one final dangerous assignment shortly before his supposed demise.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, resisting the urge to take her into his arms and tell her the truth about his identity. About how sorry he was for bringing all this shit down around her. But he kept quiet and watched her disappear into the bedroom.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chance peered up at the living room’s knotty pine ceiling and once again wondered if maybe he was dreaming being here on the island with Emily. For years he’d fantasized about it. Imagined himself back in this cozy little keeper’s house, peering up at this ceiling while taking an afternoon nap or lying beside his wife after making love to her on the couch. For years he’d awakened and found himself staring at the round, black metal bars holding him prisoner, totally alone and feeling devastated that their lives had been so utterly torn apart.

  However, over the past couple of days when thinking about his hellish past, trapped in prison, his thoughts didn’t spark the usual raw anger. Something had changed inside of him by being here. Maybe it was partly due to the soothing salty smell of the fresh ocean air, the physically challenging work of lugging in the seaweed and the scenic rock-riddled and red sandy beaches that helped heal some of his inner turmoil.

  Most of all though, it was Emily. Being near her, her letting him touch her and making love to her, gave him the confidence he needed to start living again. He owed her a lot of thanks. He owed her his life. Over the years of incarceration, just thinking about her had saved his sanity on many occasions.

  He continued to stare up at the ceiling and lazily drifted in the soft buzz of warmth and feeling of belonging he found here. After his shower, he checked on Emily and found her fast asleep.

  She’d looked ultra-sexy lying there on the bed. Curled into a fetal position, her hands tucked beneath her cheek, he couldn’t get enough of studying the womanly curve of her hip, remembering how he’d held those hips last night. Held them tight while he’d fucked her from behind. Groaning at the way her pussy wrapped around his cock, welcoming him inside with his every plunge.

  Nor had he been able to keep his gaze from drifting to her slightly parted lips and remembering how hard she’d sucked his cock.

  While she’d slept he’d reached out and touched a silky damp strand of her hair, traced his finger featherlight down her cheek bone to her rose-colored lips. Lips both sweet and demanding. A lethal combination.

  Slowly he’d lifted his finger from her face and held his breath as she nestled more snugly on the bed. She remained asleep.

  He knew how she felt. He wanted to stay cuddled up, pretending that everything was all right. The truth was, if he didn’t get her out of here, away from this danger, there would be no chance at a future for either of them. Covering her with a blanket, he’d tiptoed out of the bedroom, and finding a raincoat hanging on a peg near the side door, he put it on and went outside into the pouring rain to check the phone lines.

  The slicker did wonders to protect him from the cold. He found the phone line easily enough, and thankfully it hadn’t been cut so it was probably the impending storm that caused the problem.

  He checked all around the base of the octagonal white lighthouse too, as well as the adjoining keeper house for anything out of the ordinary and found nothing. He also found no sign of anyone trying to gain entrance from any of the easily accessible windows. After a thorough search of the lighthouse, he came inside and discovered Emily was still fast asleep.

  He ached to wake her. Craved to make love to her. But he held himself in check. She’d been through hell today and she needed as much rest as possible to keep herself grounded. In turn, he ate lunch in the kitchen and settled on the couch to grab a bit of rest.

  * * * * *

  Tantalizing aromas of fresh-brewed coffee sifted through the thick layers of Emily’s sleep and unleashed a memory of how Steve would start the coffee machine every morning. The peaceful vision made her wake up and reality crashed in around her.

  Steve was dead.

  And earlier today she and Chance had almost ended up in jail. She’d also fallen asleep while listening to Chance in the shower. Taking her mind off their close call, she’d begun to fantasize about the water splashing over his muscular body. Fantasized about stepping into the shower with him, taking his cock into her hand and guiding it inside her.

  Emily moaned softly and tried to ignore the fluttery feeling sifting through her abdomen as she remembered Chance fucking her last night. God, it had
felt so good. So right. But so wrong this morning in the bright of daylight. Yet so right again this afternoon after their narrow escape, and she’d fantasized about him while he’d been in the shower.

  Funny, after everything that had happened today, she’d been totally convinced she wouldn’t sleep despite the weariness of hauling all that seaweed this morning. But she’d drifted off with Chance on her mind.

  Blinking her eyes open, she glanced at the clock on the night table and started. It was way past lunchtime. She’d slept for a solid two hours and it would be dark in about three. She also realized Chance had thrown a blanket over her while she’d slept. That meant he’d been in here. Erotic warmth curled through her at the thought. She wondered what she would have done had he kissed her awake and said he would make love to her. Heck, who was she kidding? She would have pulled him onto the bed right on top of her. She smiled at that thought. Definitely would have kissed him hard and taken his cock out of his pants.

  At the thought of Chance, she found herself wondering where he’d gone. The house was quiet. Yet the rich aroma of coffee hung in the air.

  From the quietness she knew the rain and wind had subsided, but for how long? She felt so snug and warm here beneath the blanket but the smell of coffee prodded her from her cocoon.

  A few moments later she entered the kitchen and found the steaming glass pot set on the coffee machine heater and a note sitting on the counter. Picking up the piece of paper, she breathed a huge sigh of relief when she read the handwritten words, Up in the lamp room.

  A strange feeling fluttered through her at the large, bold and confidently written words. They looked very similar to the way Steve used to write. Shoving aside the feeling, she headed to the freezer to look for something to whip up for supper.

  * * * * *

  Chance stood at the steel railing on the octagonal platform just outside the lamp room near the top of the lighthouse and peered out across darkening sky to the east. The rain had stopped, and over the past few minutes the wind had picked up again, whipping against him like a battering ram. He caught brief interludes of the decaying odor of seaweed washed ashore below as well as the foul odor of rotting fish. He could also smell the ocean salt as it intermingled with the sweet pine scent drifting up from the nearby stunted trees, which cradled the cliffs below the lighthouse.

  In the distance silver forks of lightning blazed out of the billowing black clouds, warning of the approaching hurricane. Obviously it had made landfall and would be here soon enough. Yet in direct contrast to the hurricane brewing in the east, the western horizon was filled with color. Puffy white clouds were streaked with pinks, powdery blues and pale violet as they drifted in front of the descending golden sun. The rays of sunshine illuminated the capped ocean waves with sparkles of gold and light blue. The remarkable sight made him feel in awe of the beauty he was surrounded with out here on the tiny red-colored rocky island just half an hour north of Prince Edward Island.

  After being away from here for so many years, he could now truly appreciate why Emily would want to raise kids here. Out here there were no snow-capped mountains in the background, instead there were mighty clouds that looked like mountains. There were no endless green pastures filled with cows, or hundreds of acres of golden wheat fields shimmering beneath the hot sunshine as he’d experienced on the McCullen ranch-farm where he’d grown up, but this ocean scenery with exquisite sunsets gave him just as good a feeling of being home that the beautiful Montana sunsets and scenery had done when he’d been younger.

  He was just about to ponder whether he should go down and wake Emily so she could get a look at this fantastic sunset when a sound behind him made him whirl around. Emily stood in the doorway with a tray of food in her hands.

  “Here, let me get that,” Chance offered. Before he could help her, she shook her head and set the tray on the wide windowsills of the lamp house.

  “I might have slept through to breakfast if I hadn’t smelled that coffee brewing in the kitchen,” she laughed.

  Heat scorched through him like a bolt of electricity as she smiled at him. God, if he wasn’t already head over heels in love with her, he would have fallen in love all over again just be seeing those cute dimples burst in her cheeks.

  “Supper out here okay with you? I have a couple of old lawn chairs inside the lamp room and we can watch the sunset out here over pizza and hot coffee.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll get the chairs.”

  It only took him a moment and he had the lawn chairs set up in an area that was shielded by the wind and facing the glowing sunset. In moments they were seated and he had a toasty plate warming his cold hands along with a huge slice of pepperoni pizza and a hot cup of steaming coffee.

  “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered as she looked at the sunset. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and her cheeks and nose were already pink from the cold air. He was glad she’d donned a warm winter jacket and her black toque because he could feel it was getting colder by the minute out here.

  He nodded as he wolfed down the hot pizza and groaned at the fantastic saltiness of the pepperoni exploding against his taste buds.

  “Frozen pizza never tasted so good,” he muttered between hearty bites and remembered that this type of pizza was one of her favorites.

  “I wanted something fast so I could come up and watch the sunset. When we head back downstairs, we can have some fruit for dessert and I can toss us a nice seaweed salad.”

  He grimaced at the thought of eating seaweed salad and she laughed, her gaze sparkling with humor.

  “I’ll pass on the salad,” he mumbled, and took another bite of the pizza.

  “Oh, but you have to at least try it. I make a mean seaweed salad with croutons and Caesar’s salad dressing.”

  He squirmed uneasily in his seat, not really wanting to see more seaweed let alone eat some.

  “Really, seriously. I’ll pass.”

  To his surprise she placed a warm hand on his knee and squeezed with reassurance before withdrawing her hand again.

  “I’m only kidding about the seaweed, Chance. But I will whip up a regular Caesar’s salad for us. You’ll love it. I guarantee it.”

  I love you, Emily. Not your seaweed pie or your seaweed salad but you. God, he wished he could just blurt it out and tell her. Instead he chowed down more of the quickly cooling pizza and followed her gaze out to where the hurricane hovered to the northeast.

  “When the pizza was in the microwave I was listening to the radio. They say the hurricane has been downgraded to a tropical depression. It’s over Nova Scotia now and it’ll pack a punch sometime tonight. We’ll probably be out of electricity by then and the generators will kick in automatically.”

  Unless whoever stole their diesel had helped themselves to the fuel for the generator as well, he mused to himself. He would have to go into the small generator shed on the back deck to make sure there was fuel available.

  “And I also came up with an idea on how we can get some help,” she said.

  The sad sound of her voice made Chance stop chewing and he suddenly got the feeling he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say.

  She continued. “It’s a long shot. But I’ll tell you after we finish dinner. If I talk about it now, I’ll lose my appetite.”

  He detected the tears glistening in her eyes and opted to do as she asked. He turned his attention to the sunset and things suddenly didn’t seem as beautiful as they were a minute ago.

  * * * * *

  With sadness in her heart and thick emotion clogging her throat, Emily watched Chance untie the ropes holding her boat securely against her wharf.

  Although there was still a couple hours worth of good daylight left, she knew the chances were slim that someone would see anything wrong with her boat floating out on the ocean. Hopefully though, they might get suspicious that something might be wrong if they noticed it going out to sea instead of heading inland and that no one was in the pilothouse steeri
ng the tug.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he shouted into the wind as he held the last of the lines in his hand and waited for her okay.

  She swallowed back her tears and forced herself to nod.

  He frowned and threw the lines into the boat. Her boat and the full cargo of seaweed they’d worked so hard to gather this morning caught in the stiff wind and quickly drifted away.

  One foot. Three feet. Six feet. Nine feet. Her uncle’s old tugboat was heading directly toward the rolling black clouds that might destroy it. But hopefully if everything went right it would save them and someone would recognize her, board her and alert the authorities that something was wrong.

  “Do you think it’ll work?” Chance asked.

  “I don’t know. The wind direction is almost right. I know a lot of true fishermen would have been out today looking for their catch like we were and they’ll be heading back to the mainland about now. Hopefully Sweet Lies will get blown into the shipping lanes and someone will recognize she’s going the wrong way before the storm hits.”

  “What if she falls into the wrong hands? Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”

  Her breath caught at his words. Yes, she’d thought of that possibility. For all she knew, this would be the last time she’d ever see Sweet Lies. Anyone could find her and decide to lay claim to her. They would refit her, repaint her and take her for their own. Even worse, whoever had planted the drugs on her boat could find Sweet Lies and come straight back here. That’s why they’d opted not to leave a note of help inside.

  As if sensing her sadness, Chance placed his strong hands on her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.