by Grey, S. R.
Nate looked perplexed, and I tried to explain lest he think the worst from Adam’s vague, innuendo-laden comment. “We sort of ran into each other yesterday evening.”
Adam coughed to stifle a laugh. I shot him a pointed look, but he pretended not to notice.
Nate, surely catching all this but being too much of a gentleman to comment on it, said to Adam, “OK, well, what brings you down to the café today, then?”
“I need to discuss something with you,” Adam said, suddenly serious and somber.
Helena was returning with the cappuccino, and she smiled and said “hi” to Adam.
Adam nodded to her, and Nate said, “Let’s give the girls some private time. We can talk in the back room.”
Helena set the steaming mug on the table and sat down. “What was that all about?”
I watched as Nate followed Adam through a door in the back of the café that I guessed led to the mysterious back room. “I don’t know. Um, Adam said he wanted to talk to Nate about something.”
“Hmm,” she said, “I overheard your conversation. So you ran into Adam last night, eh?”
“Uh, kind of,” I muttered. My cheeks warmed; surely I was blushing.
Helena didn’t ask for details, thank heavens, but her eyes did meet mine. She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “You should go for it, Maddy.”
“I don’t think so,” I replied a little too quickly.
She drummed her perfectly manicured fingernails on the table, seemingly contemplating something. “I’ll tell you a secret, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”
What is it with this island and secrets? I thought. Out loud, though, I said, “Sure, my lips are sealed.”
Keeping her voice low, she said, “Bet you never knew Adam wanted to ask you out back in high school.”
I almost spit out my cappuccino and then checked to make sure the back room door was definitely closed. “No way. He never even looked my way, and besides, he was dating Chelsea.”
“That girl was a bitch,” Helena snapped. “He would have been better off if he’d dumped her back then.” Not knowing how to respond, I just sat and let her go on. “Believe what you want, Maddy, but I know for a fact Adam had a thing for you. And I bet he still does.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She nodded to the back room. “Nate told me.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I sighed. “That was a long time ago, and I don’t get the impression he’s interested now. I mean, not really.”
Sure, Adam may have flirted last night, but Helena was making it sound like he’d once been genuinely interested in me.
She was about to say something else, but just then Adam and Nate emerged from the back room. As Adam headed toward our table, Helena got up and whispered to me, “I have your number on the order form. We’ll talk more later, OK?”
I nodded, and from back at the coffee bar, Nate called out, “Hey, babe, can you give me a hand over here?”
It was like they were both conspiring to give Adam and me alone time. Maybe they were. I took a sip of cappuccino as Adam slid into Helena’s vacated seat. “Hey,” he said, leaning back in his chair and throwing me off with a particularly captivating smile. “Sorry about bringing last night up in front of Nate.”
I wanted to play it cool, because, really, he didn’t look remorseful in the least.
But I couldn’t help but break into a smile of my own. Not when he looked this damn good—hair still damp, eyes a sea of blue. So I gave up on being mad and said, “No problem.”
Another dazzling smile and then he said, “It stopped raining.” A vague gesture to the window. “Do you want to take a walk with me?” Adam’s voice was liquid silk, his tone softly sweet but dangerously alluring.
Unable to resist, I said, “Yeah, sure.”
So much for my grand plan to stay away from him. Hell, I was already caving. But after hearing Helena’s revelations, I wanted to spend more time with this man. I didn’t care to talk about the case, think about the case, nothing. I just wanted to enjoy this moment with a gorgeous guy who, just maybe, had a thing for me. Still.
We left the café—but not before saying our farewells to a smug-looking Helena and Nate. Clever matchmakers, I thought, smiling, as Adam and I walked side by side through town, passing the brightly colored buildings. “I love all the colors,” I told him. “I’ll have to come back next year when everything’s open.”
“You should,” Adam replied. “It’s a lot different in the summer.”
“What made you choose the art deco theme?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I winced. I’d promised Ami I’d not say anything to anyone about knowing Adam owned the island. I was sure she’d especially meant the owner himself.
But Adam just chuckled. “Ami?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
We reached the top of the hill that led to the dock parking lot, and I slowed. “Please don’t be mad at her. I was the one digging for information.”
Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, but I didn’t want Adam to be angry with Ami. Much to my relief, he said, “It’s fine, I’m not mad.” And he really looked OK with it. “Come on,” he added. “We just have a little further to go.”
I knew we were nearing the southern edge of the island, but I had no idea what our destination was. Adam led me to a narrow, gravel pathway that cut through some low-lying scrub grass and shrubbery. We walked to the end of the pathway, to a point where the land just appeared to drop off to the sea.
Cautiously, I peered forward. A set of uneven steps, crudely cut into the cliffs, weaved their way down to a narrow peninsula. The blanket of thick fog at the base made it impossible to see more than the outlines of the rocks below. “Where are we going?” I asked, turning to face Adam, as the wind, icy cold this close to the sea, whipped hair into my face.
Adam reached out and gently smoothed the wayward strands back, the warmth of his fingers a welcome contrast to the cool air.
“You’re cold, Maddy. Here, take this,” he said, shucking his coat off and holding it up for me to slip on.
“Thanks.” I slid my arms into the sleeves, and then Adam gently lifted my hair and secured the jacket around my shoulders.
“Better?” he asked, turning me to face him once more, while rolling the sleeves up over the bulkiness of my sweater.
“Mm-hmm,” I answered, breathing in the unique scent of Adam. I could get used to this.
He rubbed my very cold hands between his own very warm hands. “You ready, then?”
“Are we going down there?” I asked, my voice raising an octave as he began to lead me to the top of the precarious-looking steps.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.” He squeezed my hand reassuringly. “It’s actually pretty cool down there when the weather is like this. I think you’ll like it.”
For some crazy reason, I did feel safe with Adam. Besides, I was curious to see what—besides the black, jagged edges of rocks peeking through the fog—was on the peninsula.
I stayed close to Adam as we began the steep descent, the misty air engulfing us. “What’s down here anyway?” I asked, my voice muted by the ever-increasing volume of the crashing waves.
“The lighthouse,” Adam replied.
Chapter 5
At the base of the steps, in the shadow of the towering cliffs, surge after surge of waves battered the sides of the rocky peninsula. Viewed through the cottony haze of fog, the landscape of oil-black rocks—some unusually large and oddly shaped—lent a mystical feel to the whole area.
“Pretty cool, eh?” Adam asked when he caught me, mouth open, ogling the place.
OK, so I was impressed. I snapped my mouth closed and playfully elbowed him for looking so smug. But then I agreed that the atmosphere down
here was definitely something worth seeing.
Adam pointed to a tall, stark white structure off in the distance, and realizing what it was, I exclaimed, “The lighthouse! Can we get closer?”
“Absolutely,” he said, smiling, as he led the way to what appeared to be the least treacherous route to the lighthouse.
Down here the terrain was unforgiving, especially in the fog. One wrong move could easily result in a bad fall. But I took my time, allowing Adam to help me traverse the more slippery surfaces and climb across the largest of the boulders.
At last we reached a swath of hard-packed sand. “It’s mostly easy going from here,” Adam said, breaking the silence that had ensued as we’d navigated our way.
Now that the most difficult part of our little journey was behind us, conversation resumed. We shared stories about our college days. Although I had a few good tales of my own, Adam surprised me with several hilarious anecdotes of his own. I laughed a lot, both at the content of his stories and the animated way in which he told them. Unlike the mercurial man I’d dealt with last night, when he spoke of these obviously happy days at school, Adam was more like the guy I’d once longed to get to know.
But that changed when I asked him about his company. Adam grew reticent, giving me short, clipped answers that sounded almost rehearsed. He finally just said he didn’t want to think about work, so instead I told him about how I’d become a novelist.
“I’ve heard of your books,” Adam said. “But I must confess I’ve never read any of them. I’ll have to pick one up.”
Thrilled that he wanted to read something I’d written, I said, “I have a bunch of extra copies at the cottage. I could just give you one.”
“Only if you sign it,” Adam said, his tone teasing as he lightly bumped his shoulder into mine.
We continued, closer, closer to the lighthouse, until Adam stopped abruptly. He turned to me. “You write mystery novels, right?”
His face was unreadable, so I answered with an “uh-huh,” my voice cracking on the second syllable.
“And all of them are fiction?”
I nervously pushed the toe of my hiking boot into the wet sand and replied, “Yep, all fiction.”
Adam looked to be contemplating my answer as he took several steps backward, beckoning for me to follow. I took a few tentative steps toward him, my eyes lowering to the squishy prints my boots were making in the wet sand. Impressions that were there for a moment and then gone as if they’d never been there.
I kept walking, watching my prints appear and disappear, but then Adam halted. To avoid stumbling headfirst into him, I thrust my hand forward, grasping the thermal material of his shirt. His chest flexed beneath my hold as he caught my elbows and steadied me. I met his gaze, and he asked softly, “Ever consider writing a book about the mystery right in front of you?”
I swallowed hard, all the while wondering if he meant himself…or the Harbour Falls Mystery. Worse yet, was he onto me? Was he trying to get me to fess up? My pulse began to race, and I searched his stormy eyes. I couldn’t tell him the truth. The mystery was too intertwined with his life. Hell, the mystery was his life.
I glanced down at my hand, still fisted in his shirt—maybe more so, now—and did what I was learning to do best. I lied. “Um, no, I think I’ll stick to fiction.”
Adam was silent, but then he released his hold on my elbows and raised one hand to nudge my chin. “You sure, Maddy?”
I croaked out a shaky, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Adam’s mouth turned up into what I hoped was a smile, not a grimace. “Good to hear,” he said as he gently pried my hand from his shirt. Embarrassed, I ran a quick, smoothing pass over the material.
The fog had dissipated slightly, and I could now see we’d reached the base of the lighthouse. The structure itself stood perched atop layers of black rock, with no visible way up. “How to we get up there?” I asked.
“Over here.” Adam led me to a hidden, sandy trail that curved like a serpent through the rocks, ending at the lighthouse door.
Thankfully, any lingering tension quickly passed as we focused on making our way up the short trail.
When we reached the looming structure, I stared straight up and, without thinking, gushed, “God, it’s so much bigger up close.”
Adam smirked and cocked his head to the side. My cheeks warmed, realizing how fraught with innuendo that statement had been. “I mean, it’s bigger than it looked, uh,”—I flailed a hand to the barely visible rocky ledge from which we’d descended— “from up there.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured you meant,” Adam deadpanned. He was doing his best to not laugh at me, so I rolled my eyes at him. But, really, I was just happy we were back to playful banter.
I turned to the metal door on the side of the lighthouse, put my hand on the handle, and pulled, and pulled. “Hey, it’s locked.” Nothing like stating the obvious there, Maddy.
Adam pulled out a key ring from the pocket of his jeans. “Lucky for you, I have the only key,” he said smugly.
“I guess so, since it’s your island,” I muttered under my breath.
Adam shot me a cocky grin, having heard me, as he unlocked the metal door. I rolled my eyes, again. Only this time it was in pretend exasperation. Chuckling, he pushed the creaky door open.
I took a few tentative steps inside and faltered when a sudden, inexplicable feeling of unease rushed over me in the cool and damp surroundings. Adam was beside me in an instant. “Are you OK?” he asked.
Though it made little sense, his proximity comforted me. I didn’t know if it was my head—or more likely my heart—talking, but I wanted to believe Adam was innocent of any involvement in Chelsea’s disappearance. I wanted to believe he was just another victim in this whole Harbour Falls Mystery mess.
Despite the chill in the air, my traitorous body warmed as he moved closer. “Maddy?” he asked, his voice laden with concern.
Whatever weird moment I’d had, had passed. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I just needed a minute.”
My eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, and I glanced around. A winding iron staircase circled up and up. Standing in the center of the lighthouse, staring up, it had the appearance of a black snail that had attached itself to the smooth, conical interior walls. A few tiny, recessed windows along the staircase provided the only illumination, dust motes swirling in the strips of light streaming in.
“Can we go up?” I asked, nodding to the spiraling steps.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “But we’ll have to be careful. It’s damp in here, and the steps are bound to be slippery.” And many of them were, but Adam was right behind me the whole way up. Ready to catch me if I fell.
Higher and higher we ascended. I stopped counting the steps when I reached two hundred, gasping when I made the mistake of glancing down.
I felt Adam’s hands come to rest above my hips. “I’m right behind you; you’ll be fine,” he promised. “We’re almost there.”
A few more steps and we reached a service room, no longer in use, of course. A small wooden ladder was attached to the wall. Adam climbed up first and then offered me a hand. “Still want to come up? Or are you backing out?” he asked. His tone was playful, and I could tell he was trying to put me at ease.
The ladder led to the lantern room, which was enclosed by large, glass storm panes. I wasn’t afraid anymore, so I took his hand and said, “I made it this far, didn’t I?”
“Brave girl,” Adam said as he hoisted me up with ease.
We’d finally reached the very top. I walked over to the large, dusty lens of the lighthouse beacon. Reaching out to brush away a few cobwebs, I said, “Think of all the sailors this light once guided to safety.”
“Or warned of the danger,” Adam added, though he said it so quietly I barely heard him.
“I bet the view from up here is amazing on a clear day,” I said, sighing as I stared out into the dense veil of fog.
“It is.” Adam’s breath brushed over my hair as I felt him come up behind me. “There are hidden caves in the face of the cliffs.” He pointed, but there was entirely too much fog. “You can see them best from up here. When there’s no fog, of course.”
“Oooh, hidden caves. Sounds spooky,” I said, pretending to shudder. “You’ll have to show me sometime.” I leaned back into him, and he circled his arms around me, his heart a soothing tattoo of beats against my spine.
“I will. I’ll bring you back up here when it’s sunny.”
“Promise, Adam?” I asked coyly.
He spun me around so we were face-to-face, and I leaned back against the metal handrail. He said, “Under one condition.”
Oh, this is getting interesting.
I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Do go on, Mr. Ward.”
“Let me take you to dinner next week, Ms. Fitch.”
“Next week?” I asked, glancing up at him through my lashes. “Why wait?”
Adam pulled me to him. “Well, I’d say ‘as soon as possible,’ believe me.” He brushed a stray wisp of hair from my cheek, carefully tucking it behind my ear. “But unfortunately, I have to fly out on business tomorrow, and I won’t be back until Wednesday.” Adam’s fingertips left a heated path as he traced my earlobe. “Let me take you to dinner when I return. We can fly down to Boston.”
Adam’s long fingers continued a lazy path to the back of my neck, where they lingered. He traced little circles, leaving my mind as foggy as the air outside. “Will you say yes, Maddy?” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “Say yes,” he coaxed.
