Lighthouse Reef (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 4)

by Vickie McKeehan

  After bringing the pickup to a full stop, Logan shut off the engine. They sat there for a couple of minutes in the quiet. Finally he turned to her and said, “I’ve been combative with a lot of people lately. You shouldn’t take it personally. The breakup with Fiona was fairly public. It played out in the press and took its toll. Needless to say, I was glad to board that plane back in Rome and leave Fiona’s influence behind. I’m determined the past is over and done with, a past I’ll never repeat. I’ll never make the mistake of marrying again. Ever.”

  “Why did you come back to Pelican Pointe, Logan? Does it have anything to do with Liam Donnelly?” When his jaw dropped, she was fairly certain she was onto something. “I found the name of the architect who designed the lighthouse online. Is that why you came back?” Her question was met with silence. “Maybe if you trusted someone enough to talk about it—”

  “Do I look like I want to—?”

  Without letting him finish, she slid her feet back into her shoes. She opened the door and climbed out of the truck without a word. Resisting the urge to slam it shut, because the lateness of the hour and the noise would most likely wake up a few of the guests sleeping inside, she gave the door a light shove to close it.

  Behind the wheel, Logan scrubbed a hand over his face. This had to stop. Even he was getting fed up with his defensive demeanor. He crawled out of the truck. As Kinsey rounded the front of the vehicle to head inside, he grabbed her arm. “Wait. I’m sorry.”

  She wrenched out of his grasp. “You spend a lot of time saying that. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  He looked down at the ground, rubbed his forehead. When he glanced back up, he found her staring. And why wouldn’t she be? Her penetrating eyes, her sensuous mouth…it hit him then. “I just realized why you drive me nuts?”

  “I drive you nuts? Since when?”

  “Since I’ve wanted to do this.” Logan reached out, ran his hands through those thick wisps of hair that hung free. He removed one clip holding those long tresses in place, then another. All that golden brown tumbled into his hand. It fell around her shoulders like a veil. He took a good hold, bunched the strands up in the fingers of his one good hand. He tugged her into him. His mouth crushed hers. He felt her jangle of nerves blend with raw lust. He also felt the moment those nerves settled, and she yielded.

  For Kinsey his lips and tongue were like chocolate silk. She took greedy bites. She’d known the lure of attraction. But this was like hot flame rising up inside an inferno. Because his hands were everywhere, gripping her hair, behind her neck, exploring her back, feeling her rear, the inferno ratcheted up quick as a fire bolt. Gnawing hunger grew between them. It whipped and pulled until the craving brought overwhelming need. It was that need that snapped them back to reality. They broke apart.

  Lips wet, she looked up into his eyes. “For a guy with only one good hand, you still have some decent moves.” But she found herself being studied like a specimen under a microscope. “What’s the matter?”

  Her lips were swollen from his roughness. He took hold of her chin. “I’d love to sketch this face, that pouty mouth of yours, capture those cheekbones then sculpt you in clay.” His eyes changed when he noticed hers were wide with surprise. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how beautiful you are.”

  “I haven’t thought about it one way or the other.”

  He almost wanted to believe her. “I get this cast off, will you pose for me?”

  “You’re serious? Sketch? I thought you were a sculptor?”

  He sent her a withering stare. “I sketch a subject first before I create an armature.” When he saw her blank look, he added, “A framework, especially if I’m using clay. And you would be exceptional, graceful in clay, like you were tonight at the piano.”

  Was this a pick-up line he used often? she wondered. She glanced at the front door of the B & B, and lowered her voice. “Look, we can’t stand out here like this without waking up all the guests inside. There are kids in there. Since this morning I’ve got a place to live, an apartment.”

  He frowned. “There are no apartments in Pelican Pointe.”

  “That’s what I said. But apparently there’s a studio over the garage. I’m renting it. It’s actually more like a little loft. The furniture’s a bit dated.” She laughed. “Well, dated as in the 70s, but I can work with it. You should see the old urn top maple bed.” When she realized what she’d said, she stammered, “I…I…didn’t mean you should see it. I meant you should, you know, check it out.”

  Logan grinned and it transformed his face. Those eyes of his went from cool green to warm, exotic jade. “If that’s an invitation, I accept.”

  “You mean right now?”

  “Why not? Like you said, we go in there we’re bound to wake somebody up. Lead the way.”

  “You know, you aren’t bad looking—when you take the time to smile.”

  “That’s okay. You smile enough for twenty people.”

  They walked around the side of the house following a trail of moonlight. Mounting the stairs beside the garage, Kinsey tiptoed up the stairs trying to prevent her heels from clicking on the old wood. She found the door still unlocked. She flicked on the lights as they stepped inside. She twirled around and said, “Well, what do you think?”

  With the eye of an artist, Logan surveyed the space. He noticed the bank of windows first at the back of the room on the ocean side that in daylight would let in plenty of western sun in the afternoon.

  The scuffed hardwood floor had seen better days, but it shined with polish and effort. A 70ish pale green sofa sagged with the weight from the past. That piece of furniture divided the living area from the bedroom, which was really just an antique urn top Maplewood that stood sturdy and strong in the corner. Storage was scarce. A blanket box at the foot of the bed would help out, but it was the 1920’s era armoire in the corner that would have to double as closet space.

  An old box TV sat at an angle on a squatty two-drawer table in the opposite corner, a DVD player underneath.

  There was no kitchen. One wall had a two-burner stovetop, a microwave situated on a square table top, a stingy counter with a slice of overhead cabinets, and a compact refrigerator.

  A white wrought iron table and two matching chairs with Kelly green cushions were tucked under the windows, providing a place to eat as well as a view of the ocean beyond.

  Logan took the time to stick his head into the bathroom. There was no tub, just a shower stall. But it had all the necessary comforts. “I like it.”

  “So do I. I’m going to paint the walls. I think a soothing mint green. What do you think?”

  He shook his head. “You want more light, open it up some?”

  “More light would be nice.”

  “Then go with the ripe cantaloupe color like they used in my room, a shade lighter. Have you seen it?”

  “I have. It reminds me of a melting Dreamsicle.” She tilted her head to study the walls again. “You’re right. The softer color will brighten up the place. I want to cover that old sofa with slipcovers maybe in a dark brown.”

  He nodded. “Good choice. Use contrasting colors, accessorize with pillows in lighter tones.”

  “You’re really good at this. Most men don’t have a flair for decorating.”

  “I’d be a poor excuse for an artist if I didn’t.” Logan went over to the little refrigerator, stuck his nose into the box. “Hey, there’s one of those miniature bottles of red wine in here and some cheese sticks. Did you even bother to eat dinner?”

  “Now that you mention it, I am starving. Maybe we can find some stale crackers.” She opened the cabinet and hit the mother lode. “Would you look at this?”

  Logan watched as she started pulling out a small box of crackers, a mini-loaf of bread, along with peanut butter.

  “There are grapes and apples in here and a jar of blackberry jam. Ever had peanut butter and jam sandwiches at midnight?”

  “Are you kidding? What’s a late-night meal wit
hout PB&J?”

  He traced a finger around her mouth, warning her of what he planned to do before actually lowering his head to her lips. This time their tongues danced while he slowly drew out the kiss. The urge to devour was there at the fringes, that age-old desire to mate.

  It felt glorious to be up against a hard male, sinking deeper with every sensation, every taste.

  As if having second thoughts, he released her chin. “Kinsey?”

  “What?”

  “Let’s chow down.”

  It took her a full minute to come out from the daze where his mouth had worked its magic and realized he’d switched gears. He was talking about the food.

  They took their bounty, not to the table, but spread the food out like a picnic on the tapestry rectangular rug that decorated the area in front of the couch. She went back to the cabinet to dig out two jelly jars for glasses.

  “Do you plan to sleep here tonight?” He asked as he poured the wine in equal amounts.

  “No, my clothes are still in my room. I didn’t have time to move stuff in yet. I had to be at work at eight. And I want to paint the room before moving in.”

  He checked his watch. “It’s been a long day for you.”

  “I know, but it’s hard to come down from the adrenaline of getting through two very different jobs in the span of twelve hours. Logan, will you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Will you tell me about Rome? I’ve always wanted to go there, see the monuments and museums, the Colosseum.”

  For a split second, he didn’t want to go there in his head. But eyeing the look on her face that told him she was genuinely interested, he changed his mind. “Instead of Rome, how about if I tell you about the southern coast of Crete? There’s this fishing village called Elounda with a little harbor nestled in between rolling hills…”

  Chapter Ten

  Sunday morning, Kinsey punched her time card with five minutes to spare at exactly seven-fifty-five, bleary-eyed from burning the candles from so many ends. The next time she decided to stay up until three in the morning with a globe-trotting artist who could hold his own while discussing decorating ideas, along with travel and art and politics, she needed her head examined.

  Okay, so maybe they’d done more than just talk. What female could resist a guy with a clever tongue, one that could take her breath away? He also had a knack for recounting the places where he’d lived, all those exotic far off locales she’d longed to see.

  It seemed Logan Donnelly had been everywhere.

  Kinsey had just enough time to count out her day’s cash and load the till before she started a pot of coffee brewing. Once she finished those chores, she dashed to the front door to turn the lock and let in her lone customer, waiting outside. Troy Dayton looked like he was just as groggy as she was, and still trying to wake up.

  “You working on Sunday, too, Troy?”

  He nodded. “It’s more like a team meeting in preparation for Monday though. We’re organizing the site. We start gutting the keeper’s house, pulling out all the rotting wood in the morning. He’s ordered supplies. He’s paying me time and a half because it’s a Sunday. Can you believe that?”

  Kinsey’s heart warmed a bit. “Anything over forty hours a week or eight hours a day is the law in California.”

  “But I just started working for him Thursday, only worked eighteen hours so far over the three days.”

  “I guess he’s being generous then. What else does the job entail?”

  “Well, today I’m helping him plan out what he wants done, a time schedule we stick to. He wants to go over everything before it begins for real tomorrow. A lot of his tools got here yesterday. Saturday delivery if you can believe that. We’ve already moved most everything to the site. It’s gonna be a huge project, Kinsey. It’s the biggest one I’ve ever worked on, that’s for sure. And it’ll be a job for at least the next six months.” He sniffed the air. “That coffee about done?”

  “I’ll arm-wrestle you for the first cup,” Kinsey teased as she got down to-go cups and lids.

  “You look like you didn’t get any sleep.”

  “Right backatcha. Your new boss talked my ear off last night. It was like he finally let his guard down for five minutes and opened up enough that the floodgates poured. I have to say, he isn’t nearly as big of a jerk as I first thought. That was my initial impression of him. But after last night…”

  “Let me be the first to start the rumor mill then. Kinsey Wyatt and Logan Donnelly.” Troy wiggled his eyebrows as he picked up the pot of coffee and poured the liquid into the Styrofoam.

  “Are you kidding? Me with Logan Donnelly?” Kinsey snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right. Troy, that guy was married to one of the top models in the world—beautiful face, skinny body. Look at me. Do I look like I could compete with his memory of that?” Kinsey pointed out as she stirred cream into her coffee.

  Kinsey was no fool. Despite their shared string of lip-locks last night, despite the way Logan had described his ex-wife only hours earlier, she’d already decided to discount all of it. She tossed all that pent-up resentment about Fiona Perez into that same bargain bin where markdowns ended up. For one thing, didn’t most men fantasize about famous models? And Logan Donnelly had married one, which meant he couldn’t be all that much different from the average male lusting after a hot body and a beautiful face. Just because he’d railed on his ex-wife didn’t mean that if Fiona Perez showed up in Pelican Pointe today, the man wouldn’t jump at the chance at getting back together with a woman like that.

  No, the two of them might have stayed up and talked. They might have necked like high schoolers. But it didn’t mean a thing. After all, Logan had made sure she got the message in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t looking for anything long-term. And that was the deal breaker for Kinsey Wyatt.

  “I think you’re selling yourself short, Kinsey. You’re as hot as Fiona Perez.”

  “Hmm, maybe you need glasses, Troy,” she shot back as she went around to her check stand to open the register for the day.

  “Well, if you ask me Donnelly doesn’t seem too happy about having been married to this Fiona. I think she broke his arm somehow.”

  “What? He said that?”

  “He hinted at it. That’s why I think he’s relieved he isn’t around her anymore.”

  “That could be, I suppose. But right now the man’s bogged down in his own self-avowed ‘sworn-off-women phase.’ We just don’t mesh that way, Troy.”

  “I don’t know. On some level the guy seems like he’s had a rough time with women.”

  “That comes through loud and clear. He doesn’t even have to advertise it or wear a sign.”

  “You know what, Kinsey?”

  “What?”

  “You’re funny.”

  She bumped his shoulder. “Yeah? If you were eight years older I’d fight Gina Purvis for your hand.” Troy and Gina had been seeing each other for more than three months. Gina worked for Doc Prescott as his receptionist. But eyeing the look on Troy’s face, Kinsey tilted her head. At the moment Troy looked none too happy about the relationship.

  “See, that’s what I mean. I’ve never known a woman, except maybe my mom, with such a cool sense of humor,” Troy told her before he added, “And Gina and I broke up.”

  “Aw, since when? I’m sorry.” But Troy seemed to have something else on his mind. Since he was now employed full-time and seemed to be excited about his job, she didn’t think it was work related. She decided to change the subject. “You should know, Troy. Since you were my very first real friend in town, I’m fond of you, too. But you knew that. Did I say thanks for telling me about the opening at The Pointe? I got the job, by the way, played Friday night and last night to a packed house.” Kinsey laughed. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it, play in front of people. But my car wouldn’t start so I was running late. Donnelly brought me into town and we sort of had words. With all that going on, once I got there, I just jumped
right in without overthinking it too much.”

  Troy grinned. “If I had the money I’d come see you play. But the only thing I could afford on that menu is a soft drink. If I were twenty-one I could sit at the bar though. I’d like to hear you play sometime. I bet you wowed them. You had to be nervous though. Friday nights at The Pointe are always crowded. I’ve seen the parking lot. It’s usually packed.”

  “Scared witless. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know that beforehand. About the crowd I mean. I might never have gotten out of Logan’s truck. But once I started playing, I was okay.” She tilted her head to study the younger man again. “Okay, spill it. You look worried or troubled like something else is bothering you. What is it?”

  “I’m thinking about asking Mona Bingham out. Every time I go into the Diner she’s nice to me, gives me refills even when I’m just there to read the classifieds for jobs. And I found out Mona’s birthday’s coming up next month. Any idea what I could get her? Something nice, you know. Although I don’t have a lot of money for anything too expensive. Could you help me think of something nice?”

  “Sure. Why don’t you make her something, Troy? You’re an excellent carpenter. According to Keegan Bennett, the rescue center still features the miniature aquatic replica you built for the kids to play with during their visits.”

  Troy scrunched up his nose. “Women like store-bought stuff, Kinsey.”

  “Not every time. Not always. Why don’t you make her a nice jewelry box? The kind you showed me you wanted to start selling.”

  “Aw, Kinsey, no one really likes those.”

  “I do. If I had the money, I’d buy one in a heartbeat. Listen to us. We’re both so strapped for cash we can’t see straight. Look, here’s an idea. Why don’t you approach Jordan Harris and ask her about displaying several of your jewelry boxes out at the B & B?”

  “I don’t know, Kinsey. Gina threw the one I made for her out the door and onto the front porch about the same time she told me she never wanted to see me again.”

  “Then Gina isn’t worth your time, Troy. Be glad you saw the real Gina now and not later.”