by Grey, S. R.
Just as I was about to step out of the darkness of the trees, the front door of the house opened, and the man I’d hoped to avoid—Adam Ward—walked out. I took a step back and stood frozen as I watched him descend the front steps, walking—no, striding— to his Porsche.
Tall and still lean but definitely more muscular. A man now, no longer a boy. Dressed in faded jeans and a pale blue button-down, untucked with the sleeves casually rolled up his forearms, he made his way to his car. The soft lights emanating from his home illuminated his slightly tousled raven hair, but his face remained shadowed. He retrieved a briefcase from the passenger side of the car, and then he straightened, the light hitting him in just the right way. Oh my. My memory had not done him justice, he was much…hotter. Still as gorgeous as ever with the same strong jaw, aquiline nose, full lips, but there was something more. Something indefinable, something feral that called to my basest instincts like a siren song.
A loud, cracking noise—like a branch breaking—came from the woods behind me, and I was reminded of the situation at hand. Adam had been on his way back into the house, but now he stopped and looked in my direction. My heart pounded fiercely; I feared it could be heard. Holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut for a beat, I desperately prayed Adam would just go back in the damn house, so I could make my escape.
The seconds crept by slowly, and finally Adam relaxed his posture. He started back up the front steps, his stride as cool and confident as ever. As he disappeared behind the closing door, I let out my breath in a big whoosh of air. That was close.
Then, with no warning, a large, calloused hand closed over my mouth. My scream was effectively muffled, and I promptly lost consciousness.
I woke up feeling, strangely enough, warm and comfortable. Snuggling deeper into the surface I was laying on, so buttery soft, I inhaled deeply. A spicy, masculine aroma, with just a hint of laundry detergent, filled my nose. I pulled the source of this appealing scent—some kind of fabric draped over my shoulder—to my face and drank it in.
A soft chuckle came from behind my curled-up form. My eyes flew open. I stared blankly at the pale blue material—a shirt of some sort—in my hand. What the?
All at once the events of the evening came back to me in a rush of jumbled images. I quickly rolled away from the back of the black leather sofa I was on and almost tumbled to the floor. Sitting up abruptly, the shirt fell to my lap.
Embarrassment tore through me as I realized the soft laughter had come from the last person I cared to see at the moment—Adam Ward. Seated across from me in an overstuffed black leather chair, he was shirtless and smirking, his jean-clad legs propped up casually on a mahogany wood coffee table situated between us.
“W-where am I?” I stammered, glancing around a living room lit only by the warm glow of a crackling fire in a soaring stone fireplace. My feet rested on a Persian rug, pigmented in rich shades of chocolate and claret. I had no doubt it was a genuine.
I looked up, and Adam raised an eyebrow. Pay attention, Maddy. You’re obviously in the house of the person whose property you were trespassing on.
“I mean,” I hastily corrected, “what happened? How did I end up here?” A chill ran through me as I recalled the calloused hand covering my mouth before everything flashed black.
Adam raked his fingers through his messy hair. There was something insanely sensual about the way his long fingers lingered in the silky, dark strands; the way his eyes, blue but stormy, studied me. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question, Madeleine?”
As crazy as it was, in that moment, all I could think was: Well, I guess he remembers me from high school.
My fingers absently traced the collar of the blue shirt—his shirt—while I tried to think of a plausible explanation. I glanced over at Adam, his eyes taking in the lazy movement of my hand and then traveling up to my too-thin tank. Unapologetic, he met my gaze, and his mouth turned up into a wickedly suggestive smile. I stilled, suddenly feeling incredibly warm but definitely overexposed. I struggled to arrange the damn blue shirt in such a way as to cover myself, while Adam looked on with amusement.
My mind screamed danger, but my body began to feel alive in a way that had been dormant for far too long. God, the sinful thoughts this man evoked. I needed to get a grip, but no. Unable, or maybe unwilling, to stop myself, I involuntarily licked my lips and allowed my eyes to wander over the unclothed parts of his body—the curves of his biceps, the impressive breadth of his broad shoulders, the expanse of his bare chest. My gaze descended to the perfectly shaped v of his torso, down to his hips, and just kind of lingered there.
Adam cleared his throat. Quickly, I looked away, questioning my sanity. Had I hit my head when I fainted?
“Madeleine.” Adam’s voice was low and seductive, served up with maybe a hint of jest. “If you were looking for that, you should have just rung the doorbell.”
Could this get any more embarrassing? Clearly this was all some sort of a game to him. Certainly he’d been made aware that this was my first day on the island—his damn island. Yet he allowed some kind of henchman of his to scare the living daylights out of me. All due to the fact I’d dared to step onto his precious property. Never mind I’d been trespassing and, really, kind of spying.
The most enraging part, though, was that I was so, so madly attracted to Adam—even after all these years. But sitting there so cool and calm, he was having far too much fun at my expense. So I retaliated in the only way I could think of, I balled up the blue shirt and threw it at him.
Adam began to laugh, blue eyes no longer stormy. Now they sparkled like ocean water rippling under the sun, much like this afternoon. He caught the shirt with one hand. “It was just a joke,” he said. “But I am curious as to why you were out in the woods watching me.”
“I got lost. I went for a run and ended up here,” I explained. “It’s the truth, no matter how bad it looks.” And it mostly was.
I folded my arms defiantly over my chest, and Adam lowered his legs from the coffee table and leaned forward. He fluffed out the blue shirt I’d thrown and slipped it on. “Fair enough,” he said.
I mumbled something about how a person couldn’t even take a stroll through the woods around here without getting accosted, and Adam, apparently possessing exceptional hearing to go along with his many other fine attributes, said, “For the record, Max never intended to frighten you so badly. He was merely doing his job.”
“Oh, Max, the security guy for the island?” I retorted sarcastically. I’d already suspected Max’s top priority was keeping Mr. Ward safe, and this just proved it.
Adam didn’t acknowledge my sarcasm. Instead he hesitated and then said in a quiet voice, “You know, you’ve changed a lot since high school.”
I almost laughed. I’d changed? I felt like saying, “Seriously?” But I went with the more benign, “Haven’t we all?”
I wasn’t sure where this turn in the conversation might possibly lead, so best to tread carefully.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Adam sighed. “Unfortunately not all of us have changed for the better.” His voice now laced with bitterness, he looked away. Maybe this was the real Mr. Ward—bitter. It was kind of sad.
Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I quipped, “Well, you’ve certainly done very well for yourself.” I motioned around the room like a game show hostess. Oh God, Maddy, stop now!
“I guess it depends on one’s perspective,” Adam said distractedly, while finally getting around to buttoning his shirt. “But I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.”
“It’s true though,” I muttered to myself.
Adam leaned back in the chair. Gone was the playful, naughty man who had made me feel so frustrated and angry. But, in all honesty, he’d also reminded me I could be desirable to someone. Maybe even desirable to him.
“We should proba
bly get you back to the cottage,” he said, waylaying my train of thought. “It’s getting late.”
“Yeah, probably,” I agreed.
Adam drove me back to my cottage in his Porsche. And what a ride it was. Between the short distance and his lead foot, we reached the driveway in what had to be a new time for the record books.
Once I recovered from the impromptu Indy 500 experience, I said, “Well, thank you for driving me back, and I truly am sorry for trespassing on—”
“Maddy, don’t be foolish. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I knew you were moving onto the island today. I shouldn’t have been so suspicious when you wandered onto my property.” He paused, smiled knowingly, and then added, “After all, you were probably just taking a little stroll to get started on clearing that writer’s block, yes?”
His eyes met mine in the eerie glow of the instrument panel, and it was impossible to discern if he was joking. Or not. “Um, yeah, exactly,” I said shakily, while nodding profusely.
He didn’t seem to be buying the writer’s block story. I only hoped he hadn’t caught on to the real reason I was on the island. “Yeah…right,” he said in a dubious tone of voice.
I prayed he wouldn’t question me further, because I had the distinct impression Adam could be very persuasive, if need be. Thankfully he flashed me a smile. Though brief, I thought it genuine.
Relief flooded over me. I grabbed the door handle, my palm sweaty. “OK, thanks again.” Adam said nothing, so I continued, “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Take care.” Knowing I was blabbering on like, well, like a high school girl with an unrequited crush, I opened the door and clambered out.
“Wait, I’ll walk you to your door,” I heard him say.
Before I could decline, Adam was out of the car. I nearly ran into him on the walkway, and he moved aside, motioning for me to go ahead of him. As we walked the short distance from his car to my front door, I felt his eyes on me. It was lunacy, but instead of being uncomfortable, I was kind of hoping he was checking me out.
The intoxicating feeling of possibly being desired by someone I felt so attracted to was making me feel flirtatious, and consequently, impetuous. At the door I turned to him and asked, “Do you want to come in?”
“Madeleine…” He breathed out. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh God, I didn’t mean that!” Or did I? I was sure my face was turning shades of red to rival the changing leaves on the trees. My only saving grace was that it was dark out.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, feeling foolish for sticking my foot in my mouth.
Adam reached out and ghosted his fingertips along my jaw. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” I closed my eyes and relaxed into his warm touch, allowing his fingers to make a slow, silky path down the side of my neck to my shoulder. Toying with the flimsy strap of my top, he whispered, “Exquisite.”
“Adam,” I began.
Our eyes met, and even in the darkness, I saw conflict in his. “I better just…go,” he said, dropping his hand and turning away.
Not sure what had just happened, I mumbled, “Good night,” and went into the cottage. In the dark I leaned back against the inside of the door. After several minutes I turned on a lamp and pulled myself together.
One thing for sure, my first time seeing Adam Ward after all these years had not gone the way I’d ever expected. Now that I was away from him, I was able to think a bit more clearly. I sat down on the sofa and pulled my knees up to my chest.
Viewing Adam with an objective eye was going to be a challenge. I couldn’t allow this attraction to him to get in the way of my reason for being here. It was going to be tough, because being around him had made me feel awake and alive. Like giddy, skin-tingling, pulse-racing alive. And now that I’d experienced it, I really craved that feeling.
But it was imperative to keep reminding myself that Adam Ward was more than just some heartbreakingly handsome guy. Hell, he was the primary suspect in this case. He could end up being downright dangerous. And not the sexy kind of dangerous that had excited me tonight.
No, Adam was not to be underestimated. Someone had already enlightened him to my “writer’s block” story. And it was clear he wasn’t buying it—at all. What would he do if he knew I planned to investigate his one-time fiancée’s disappearance and, in turn, investigate him?
Logic dictated that the wisest course of action in this situation would be to stay away from him. Investigate from afar. I whispered to myself, “Stay away from Adam Ward, stay away from Adam Ward.”
But, like whispering affirmations, some things are easier said than done.
Chapter 4
The following day, I was back on task. I had the case files to review, and I planned to drop by the café. Not only did I have to place an order for some real groceries—energy bars and water were just not cutting it—it was also time to start digging around to find out exactly why Nate and Helena had chosen to live on this island. Did it have anything at all to do with the Harbour Falls Mystery?
With a renewed sense of purpose, I threw back the thick pile of blankets and got out of bed, yelping when my bare feet hit the hardwood floor. Brrr, cold. I’d forgotten to turn up the heat before retiring for the night, and now it was damn nippy in here.
With a quick peek out the blinds, I was not the least bit surprised to be greeted with a steel-colored sky, winds strong enough to kick up little tornadoes of soggy—but still brightly colored—leaves, and a view of the tempestuous sea. This last muted by a dense film of fog.
Yes, it was true Fade Island weather, and I’d better get used to it. A steaming hot shower helped warm me up, but it was the oversized fisherman’s knit sweater that I threw on over my long-sleeved tee and jeans ensemble that promised to keep the island’s perpetual dampness at bay.
Tromping down the stairs, running a towel through hair that just refused to dry, I was startled by two heavy knocks on the front door. Who would be calling at this early hour? As foolish as it was, a part of me hoped it was Adam.
But when I peered through the peephole in the door, a fish-eye, distorted image of a hulking mass of a man greeted me. Though he wore a dark gray raincoat, the hood was down. His light brown hair was shorn close to his scalp. And, though he couldn’t have been much older than thirty, his features gave him a hardened appearance. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, not at all, but he looked like he’d seen far more than he should have for his years.
There was only one person on the island who fit that description, and I guessed from the two potted, white-flowering plants that he held carefully cradled—one in each arm—that this man, Adam’s security, had come to apologize.
“Maddy Fitch?” he ventured when I opened the door a crack.
I gave him a quick nod, and he continued, “I’m Max”—just as I suspected—“I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to stop by in person to apologize for scaring you last night.” He shook his head regretfully. “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” He offered his hand, while attempting to balance the plants in the crook of one arm.
He didn’t seem like such a bad guy in the light of day, so I opened the door the rest of the way and shook his hand. He readjusted the potted plants, and I asked if he needed some help with his floral cargo. “They’re actually for you,” he said, lowering one plant to the doorstep and handing me the other.
“They’re white mums,” I mused, slowly turning the blossoming plant in my hands.
Ami sure hadn’t wasted any time getting the word out that I was in the market for some white chrysanthemums. Had she mentioned it to Max, the security guy? Or to someone else? Like, maybe, Adam.
Though he had no idea I was thinking such a thing, Max confirmed my suspicions when he said, “Mr. Ward told me he’d heard you wanted this kind of flower to plant in th
e window box, so he suggested I give them to you as a kind of peace offering for last night.”
My face warmed at the mention of Adam’s name. I looked down at the snowy blossoms. Interesting how Ami mentioned my inquiry to “Mr. Ward,” and he just happened to remember the exact details. All I said to Max, though, was a simple, “Thank you.”
I handed him the plant, and he placed it gently next to the other. “I’ll just leave them here, if that’s OK,” he said, nodding to the doorstep.
“That’s fine,” I said and thanked him once more.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Max said as he turned to leave, but then he hesitated. “Oh, one more thing.” He dipped into the pocket of his rain jacket and pulled out a damp card. “Uh, Mr. Ward wanted me to give you my number, in case you ever need anything.”
I took the card and gave it a glance: Max Cleary and a phone number. I thanked him, and we said our good-byes. I watched him drive away in a dark green Hummer, and then I went back in and entered his number into my cell phone contacts. Tapping the phone to my chin, I wondered why Adam would want me to have this phone number. Max was in charge of security for the island, sure, but as proven, that really equated to security for Adam. What possible trouble could Adam expect me to get into out here on the island? If the trouble happened to involve Adam himself, Max would be of no use to me.
But what if the trouble involved someone else? Was Adam trying to protect me from someone in particular? One of the island residents? Or someone who had access to the island?
