“Cummings.”
Shane clenched his jaw, then turned slowly at the sound of the deep voice.
Derrick Barone.
Emily’s brother stood in the doorway leading to a living area. His slacks were neatly pressed, his button-down white cotton shirt starched. Keeping his gaze on Shane, Derrick took a sip from the glass of amber liquid in his hand.
“I heard you’re taking Emily sailing.”
“That’s right.”
“My sister’s not well.” Disapproval narrowed Derrick’s eyes as he moved into the foyer. “She should be resting.”
“Is that your medical opinion,” Shane asked evenly, “or your personal opinion?”
Derrick pressed his lips together. “I have a right to an opinion, Cummings. Which is more than I can say for you. My only motive is for Emily to get well. What’s yours?”
Though Shane would like nothing better than to stuff Derrick’s glass down his Ivy League throat, he wouldn’t. Not here, at least. He replied, “Your sister’s a beautiful woman and I like being with her.”
“Or maybe you see a confused, vulnerable woman who’s misplaced her gratitude.” The ice in Derrick’s glass clinked as he tossed back a drink. “Or maybe you like the fact that her trust fund generates more income in one month than you make in a year.”
Maybe I was wrong, Shane thought. Maybe he would have to stuff that glass down Derrick’s throat, after all. Of course, that would mean he wouldn’t get to take Emily sailing, and most likely he’d never see her again, but he didn’t expect he’d see her after today, anyway.
So what the hell.
Fear lit Derrick’s eyes when Shane started toward him.
“I’m ready,” Emily said brightly as she came back down the stairs. Shane stopped but kept his gaze on Derrick, who had already taken a step back. Emily moved between the two men, glanced at Shane, then at her brother. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” Shane said dryly. “Your brother and I were just getting to know each other a little better. Isn’t that right, Derrick?”
Derrick forced a smile and lifted his glass. “That’s right, sis.”
Shane dragged his attention back to Emily, wondering how in the hell she could be related to such a jerk. “Shall we go?”
Emily cast a nervous glance between her brother and Shane, then nodded.
“Don’t wait up,” Shane said to Derrick as he touched the small of Emily’s back and guided her to the front door. “We might be late.”
Behind him, Shane could all but hear Derrick gnashing his teeth.
Next time the bastard started something, Shane thought, not even Emily would be able to save him.
“It seems that I’m indebted to you once again,” Emily told Shane as he held open the door of his shiny black Mustang convertible. “My mother wanted me to join her bridge club.”
Shane closed the door, then came around and slid behind the wheel. He stared through his windshield, his hands tightly on the wheel, his jaw clenched.
Emily bit her lower lip. What had she said? “Shane, I—I know you’re busy, and you’ve already been so generous with your time for me. I’ll understand if you’d rather not—”
“Let’s get something straight.” He turned to look at her. “You’re not indebted to me for anything. I was doing my job when I pulled you out of that building. It could have been any woman, or any man. It’s what I get paid to do.”
She didn’t understand why he was so angry. And she had the feeling that he wasn’t just upset with her, but with himself, too.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have come to the station. I realize how pathetic I must appear, and I’ve put you in a difficult—”
“Emily, for God’s sake.” He took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “This isn’t a pity date. I’m here with you because I want to be. You got that?”
She nodded. Was this actually a date? she wondered. The idea of it made her stomach flutter. She felt his hands settle gently on her arms, then slide away.
He started the car and turned up his radio—to discourage any conversation, she assumed. She knew what he’d told her was true, that he’d simply been doing his job when he’d carried her out of the building, that it wouldn’t have mattered who she was.
Still, whether he wanted her gratitude or not, he had it. How could she not value the fact he’d saved her life? But her feelings went beyond gratitude, of that she was certain. From the moment she’d opened her eyes—at the fire and the hospital—and her gaze had met his, she’d felt a connection with him. She couldn’t explain it; she could only feel it.
Shane was the only person with whom she felt completely safe.
If she told him that, she knew he’d run for the hills. She’d learned enough about Shane Cummings from the nurses at the hospital to know he wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship. Prettier, smarter women than she had certainly tried to hook the sexy fireman and failed. She’d simply be happy with the moment, she decided. Riding in his car with the top down while Nirvana and Red Hot Chili Peppers blasted from his radio.
They wound through city streets, jumped on the freeway, then exited at the Boston Harbor Marina sign. Emily took it all in: the busy parking lot, the crowds strolling along the dock, the scent of damp, salty air and the screech of seagulls floating overhead.
It felt new, yet at the same time, familiar.
They walked past families snapping photographs and a tour group buying hot dogs.
“You hungry?” Shane asked her when she paused to watch a teenage girl squeezing ketchup on a paper tray of French fries.
“Thank you, no. It’s just…I’m having a sense of déjà vu, I think. I feel as if I’ve been here before.”
“Maybe you have,” he said. “With your family, or maybe a boyfriend.”
“My sister told me I dated a man named Jeffrey for a few months,” Emily said, still watching the teenager. “But we broke up six months ago. I don’t remember anything about him, or why we broke up.”
“Bad for Jeffrey.” Shane took her hand, then brought her fingers to his lips. “Good for me.”
The press of his lips on her knuckles sent a thrill through Emily. She knew it was silly to let a simple flirtation mean so much, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt foolish and pathetic and absolutely wonderful.
With his hand still holding hers, he tugged her along the dock. Several boat owners waved or called out greetings to Shane as they passed. He waved back but didn’t stop to chat or introduce her. He bought sandwiches and chips from a vendor, then moved on again. They were nearly at the end of the dock when he stopped. “Here we are.”
They stood in front of a lovely, single-mast sailboat, more than thirty feet, Emily could tell, with a glossy teak deck and railings.
Free Spirit.
A wonderful name, Emily thought.
Shane stepped over the railing and offered her his hand, then led her down the companionway steps to the deck below. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she gasped. “You have everything here. A sink and a stove. Even a fridge!”
“It’s called the galley.” He opened a narrow door to the left of the steps. “This is the water closet, more commonly known as the head.”
Emily glanced through the door. There was a small sink and a handheld shower. She noticed the bottle of shampoo on a shelf, a half-empty tube of toothpaste sitting beside a comb and razor, and a white bath towel slung over a shower bar.
That was when it hit her.
“You live here?” Amazed, she turned back to face him. “On your boat?”
“It keeps life simple,” he said with a shrug. “No grass to mow or bushes to trim.”
No wife, no kids. No homey touches or frills. He might as well have named the ship, The Bachelor. She glanced around the small cabin, then asked, “Where’s your bed?”
She would have called the question back if she hadn’t already blurted it out. Had she
always been so forward with men? she wondered. Or was it just Shane who made her feel so casual and spontaneous?
“Actually,” he said with a grin, “it’s called a berth.”
He took her hand again and led her to the bow of the boat. A deep green comforter neatly covered the king-size bed. The walls were paneled with dark wood and a beige throw rug lay on the floor beside the bed. She noticed a book on a built-in nightstand and a pair of well-worn running shoes tossed carelessly at the foot of the mattress.
Like he’d told her, he kept his life simple. He didn’t even have any pictures on the walls.
And yet at the same time it was cozy, she thought. Comfortable. She wondered what it would feel like to stretch out on that big bed of his, to close her eyes and let the gentle rocking of the boat lull her to sleep.
And then he stepped closer and she wasn’t thinking about sleep at all.
Energy radiated from his body. And heat. Her heart started to pound fiercely when he lifted a hand to her face and lightly traced her cheekbone with the tip of his finger.
“You have the softest skin,” he murmured.
“Thank you.” Shivering at his touch, she tilted her head back and met his gaze. His fingertip trailed down her jaw to her chin, and she slowly leaned into him, waiting….
“Sunscreen.” He dropped his hand away.
She blinked. “What?”
“Did you bring sunscreen?” He glanced down at the bag she’d slung over her shoulder. “I think I have some if you didn’t.”
“Oh. Right.” She gathered her wits and drew in a breath. “Yes. I brought a tube.”
“Good. Make sure you put lots on. How ’bout a hat?”
How was it she’d so quickly gone from feeling like a woman to a child? “I forgot a hat.”
He moved to a small closet and took out a Red Sox baseball cap, adjusted the size, then pulled it snugly over her head.
With a grin, he stepped back. “Ready?”
Though her heart was still pounding and her skin was still tingling, she grinned back. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
They motored out of the marina, a slow putt-putt-putt, until they passed the breakwater, then Shane turned off the motor. Emily, seated at the helm, watched while Shane climbed up on deck and hoisted the mainsail.
The afternoon sun glistened silver off the gentle ocean swells. The fresh air invigorated Emily, heightening her senses. The sky seemed bluer, the water clearer. She drew the briny scent of the sea into her lungs, closed her eyes and felt the soft breeze flutter across her face.
“Ready?” Shane asked when he came back down from the deck.
Opening her eyes, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Ready?”
“Here.” He stepped close behind her, took hold of her hands and lifted them to the helm. “Hold tight.”
With his hands covering her own, Shane turned the wheel.
Emily’s heart jumped when the boat caught a gust and lurched.
“That’s called a heel over,” he said with a chuckle. “Now we have some fun.”
Free Spirit picked up the wind and moved, tipping to one side as it glided smoothly over the ocean. Emily laughed at the incredible sense of exhilaration pumping wildly through her veins. A sense of complete and utter freedom.
She leaned back into the solid strength of Shane’s body and let the cool mist of the ocean air slide over her face. Here, she didn’t have to think about who she was or what her life was like before. She could simply be. And with Shane, it felt so right.
As if she belonged.
“We’ll have lunch there,” he said, pointing to a small island ahead. Emily had lost track of time, wasn’t certain if minutes or hours had passed since they’d left the harbor. Nor did she really care.
Fascinated, she watched as Shane expertly and carefully maneuvered into a small, private cove, then lowered the mainsail and anchored the boat at shore. He went belowdecks for a few moments, then came back up with a blanket, the sandwiches he’d bought at the dock and two bottles of water.
She took off her canvas shoes and they waded through the cool, shallow water to a beach where he spread out the blanket. They were surrounded by high, jagged rocks and warm, clean sand. A light breeze carried the scent of the ocean.
They were alone.
“Shane, this is so beautiful,” she said after they settled on the blanket. “How did you ever find this place?”
“Dumb luck. It’s too small to be on any map. I was actually looking for another island I’d heard rumors about when I stumbled on this one. There’s rarely anyone here.”
When he tugged his T-shirt up over his head and pulled it off, Emily’s breath caught. His arms were muscled, his chest broad, with a sprinkling of dark hair that narrowed to his waist, then disappeared at the snap of his beige denim shorts. His legs were long and powerful, his skin tanned golden.
She wanted to touch him, she realized. Wanted him to touch her.
Startled by her thought, and because she didn’t want to stare, she glanced away.
“How long have you been with the fire department?” Instead of Shane’s muscled body, Emily kept her gaze on the ocean waves lapping at the shore.
“Five years.” Stretching out his long legs, he lay back on the blanket and folded his hands underneath his head.
“Why did you choose the fire department?”
“It chose me, really. My dad was a fireman, so it’s in my blood.”
“Was a fireman?”
“He was killed in a warehouse fire ten years ago. The roof caved in after an explosion.”
“I’m so sorry.” It frightened her how close history had nearly come to repeating itself for Shane. He’d barely made it out of the building he’d rescued her from a little more than a week ago. “It must be hard for your mother, losing her husband and now worrying about her son.”
“I suppose it would be, if she were alive,” he said quietly. “She lost a battle with cancer a few years ago. I think she just didn’t have it in her to fight after my dad died.”
“Oh, Shane.” Lying back on the blanket beside him, she had no idea what to say, but the need to comfort overwhelmed her. When she touched his shoulder, he tensed, then slowly relaxed when she lightly stroked his skin. “Do you have other family?”
“No sisters or brothers. Just my mother’s brother, Darcy.”
Realizing that she was still touching Shane, and how presumptuous it must seem to him, Emily started to pull her hand away, but he quickly reached up and snagged it back.
“When I was a kid,” he said, absently toying with her fingers, “my mom would have him over every Sunday night. I have a lot of great memories of those dinners and holidays.”
Would she ever have the memories of her own childhood back? Emily wondered. Would she ever remember where she’d come from, all the things she’d done? Family dinners, the names of teachers, classmates. The first boy she’d ever kissed…
She lifted her gaze to Shane, saw him watching her intently. He’d gone from toying with her fingers to stroking her hand. She knew she should pull away, but couldn’t.
Fantasy had become reality for her. Lying on a deserted beach with Shane, the warm sand underneath, the sun overhead.
But the fantasy wasn’t complete, she thought. Close, but not quite.
“Shane, would you—” Suddenly shy, she dropped her gaze. “Would you please kiss me?”
Five
Would he kiss her?
Kissing her was all he’d thought about for the past week. Well, he’d thought about other things he’d like to do to her, too, but every time he had, he’d forced his mind in another direction, any direction that would keep him from wondering what Emily would taste like, what her body would feel like underneath his own.
He’d somehow managed to resist her belowdecks, before they’d taken the boat out, but now, as he watched her cheeks bloom pink with embarrassment, as she dropped her gaze from his and caught her lower lip between her teeth, he knew he c
ould resist her no longer.
She tried to pull her hand from his, but he held her still.
“I—I’m sorry, Shane.” She turned her head away. “That was extremely forward of me. I wasn’t thinking and I—”
“Good.” He rose on an elbow, slowly slid his fingers up her arm, her shoulder, her neck, then cupped the base of her head in his hand. “Don’t think.”
He lowered his head to hers, watched her eyes widen, then drift close as his lips touched hers. He took his time, nibbled lightly at the corner of her mouth, then traced the soft curve of her lips. When she sighed, he slipped inside.
Sweet, he thought. Incredibly, unbelievably sweet.
Damn. He’d suspected that kissing Emily might be dangerous. But what he hadn’t known was just how devastating her effect on him would be. He thought he’d at least be able to control his need for her. What harm was there in a kiss?
What an idiot he was.
When she made a small sound from deep in her throat, a soft moan, he lost it altogether.
He leaned over her, stretching his body over hers as he deepened the kiss. Her arms came around his shoulders, tentatively at first, then tighter. He felt the sun on his back and the light brush of her fingertips on his neck. She shuddered underneath him and he knew he could take her right here, that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
The thought was like a cold wave washing over him. He couldn’t do this. Emily was confused, she didn’t know who she was, for God’s sake. That was the only reason she’d turned to him. He’d be taking advantage of her, of the situation.
Dammit. He’d vowed to take her away from her troubles today, and all he’d done was create more.
Slowly, he eased away from her, then sat up. Her eyes, still glazed over from his kiss, fluttered open. He stared out at the white-capped ocean, waited a moment for all the blood that had gone south to even out again.
“Are you wearing a swimsuit?” he asked when he finally managed to find his voice.
She sat beside him, lifted a trembling hand to smooth back the strands of hair rippling across her face. “Yes.”
“Good.” He stood, glanced down at her. “You’ve got two minutes to get your clothes off and be out in the water, or I’m coming back to get you.”
Where There's Smoke... Page 5
