“That’s very generous of him,” she said. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” Alex said with her mother’s same warm smile. “You’ve made my mother very happy, agreeing to have your first gallery opening here—and what makes my mother happy makes Harry happy.”
“Thank you.”
“It was an extraordinary meal,” Elliot said. “Truly memorable. I’ll be dreaming about those scallops for a long time.”
She grinned at him. “Come back anytime.”
She talked to them for a few more moments, then excused herself when diners at another table called her over to gush about their meal.
After the chef left, Megan sat in stupefied silence for several seconds, then shook her head. “I have no idea what that was all about, but I suppose I have nothing left but to be grateful.”
“My dad used to say, the only thing better than a delicious meal is a delicious meal where somebody else picks up the check.”
The memory of John Bailey made her smile. “You must miss your father very much.”
To her surprise, his expression darkened slightly. “Let’s just say, I miss the father I remember, the one from about four years before he died.”
She did a quick mental calculation that made her frown. “I don’t understand. He only lingered in that nursing home for three years after he was shot.”
She had visited him often and had found a strange peace in spending time with him, listening to music together, talking to him about problems she was having rebuilding the inn.
The brain injury he suffered in that shoot-out with an armed robber had left him unable to care for himself, without even the most basic of skills. He could no longer talk but she hadn’t minded. Even without conversation, John had exuded an air of calm and peace that had comforted her. She wanted to think she had provided a little comfort to him as well.
She had adored John Bailey, had once wanted so badly for him to be her father-in-law. He had been kind and loving and wise, one of the most decent men she had ever known.
She didn’t need a therapist to tell her she had been seeking a substitute father figure in her world. She had sometimes wondered if the chance to truly belong to the boisterous, loving Bailey clan had been at least half of Wyatt’s appeal to her.
The thought wasn’t a new one but it still felt somewhat disloyal—though certainly less disloyal than the idea that she might be falling for Wyatt’s brother.
“It’s a long story,” Elliot said now in answer to her, “and probably one of those topics I should have thrown in the old off-limits bucket.”
“Your father is an off-limits topic?”
He looked torn for a moment before composing his features again into that serious, almost stern expression. “For now. I’ll tell you at some point, but I would rather not ruin the evening talking about sad things.”
Though she was still curious, she nodded her understanding. John Bailey’s injury had been heartbreaking for everyone in Haven Point.
“We don’t have to leave, if you’d like coffee or something.”
“I’m fine. It’s been a long day and I imagine you’re anxious to get back to Cyrus.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
He helped her into her wrap. Then they walked outside into the lovely mountain air to retrieve her vehicle from the valet.
Like Haven Point, Hope’s Crossing was a mountain community at a high elevation, which meant the evenings turned crisp and cool the moment the sun went down. The lodge was even higher in the mountains, and she was wishing for more than her light wrap by the time they made it inside the building.
When she opened her door, Cyrus gave his little snort in greeting.
“I know, baby. I missed you, too,” she said. She immediately went to the crate to let him out and he did little happy spins while she petted him and smiled.
“I get the feeling you two like each other,” Elliot said with a smile.
“A bit,” she admitted. “Do you need to go out, buddy?”
The dog padded to the door and stood there expectantly.
“Need me to do that for you?” Elliot asked. “I don’t mind taking a walk to stretch after that meal.”
“Let me grab a warmer coat and we can all go.”
She put on the only other coat she’d brought along, a suede, lined jacket she loved, then found Cyrus’s leash and hooked it onto his collar.
“This shouldn’t take long,” she said to Elliot.
“I don’t mind. I like to walk.”
Something else they had in common. Though she suddenly wasn’t entirely sure it would be wise to spend more time with him given her growing feelings—especially in the romantic moonlight—she didn’t know how to get out of it. She certainly couldn’t say, Hey, Elliot, why don’t you stay here? I’m afraid I’ll get carried away and do something stupid.
She could handle this, she told herself.
Cyrus toddled ahead of them, in an obvious hurry to get outside now. The moment they hit the cold night air, he hurried to a convenient bush and peed for what seemed like hours.
“When a guy has to go, I guess he has to go,” Elliot drawled.
She had to laugh. “We’re lucky he made it this long. I have a puppy pad in the room but he likes old-fashioned grass.”
The evening was lovely, that peculiar soft night that could only be found in the mountains, when the air was crisp and clean and stars glittered in a vast blanket overhead.
“Dinner is over. Does that mean we can now talk about all the off-limits things we tabled earlier?” she asked.
“Are you in such a hurry to bring the rest of the world in and destroy the beauty of this evening?”
He had a point. Here, she could pretend the two of them were alone, that all the conflicts and stumbling blocks between them didn’t exist. For tonight, Elliot could simply be a handsome, somewhat too-serious man whose smile made her toes tingle—instead of the FBI agent who had the potential to ruin her brother’s world.
They wandered along a pathway through the resort lined with evenly spaced waist-high downlights that illuminated their way but didn’t add light pollution to the sky.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she said.
“Could you see yourself living here?”
She considered. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“If your life had taken a different course over the last decade, where do you think you would be right now?”
“Not in Haven Point. That was never in the plan. I wanted to be living abroad somewhere, or at least stationed in a bigger city I could use as a launch point to other destinations. I wanted to be a National Geographic photographer and explore the world. Instead, I’m an innkeeper in a small Idaho town.”
“I can see you now, the intrepid traveler with nothing but the clothes on her back and a bag full of camera bodies and lenses.”
She loved that romantic image. She always had, though sometimes she wondered if she loved the idea of being free of her commitments, able to come and go as she pleased, more than she did the actual dream of being a photographer.
“And Cyrus. Don’t forget Cyrus.”
He smiled. “If you had a ticket anywhere in the world, where’s the first place you would like to go with your camera?”
“How do I pick just one?”
“Okay. Top three. In no particular order.”
He seemed genuinely interested, there on the dark down-lit path. How long had it been since someone had asked her about her dreams?
“I’ve always wanted to go to Africa. Maybe just spend a few months in the veldt, living in a hut somewhere and photographing everything I see, from daybreak to sunset. Village life, exotic animals, the stunning scenery. Everything.”
He nodded. “Where would be the second place?”
“I told you, they don’t have to be in any particular order. Surely you have a bucket list.”
She considered before answering. “I suppose I would have to say Iceland, for the landscape. It’s stark and raw and beautiful, the kind of place I think I could shoot in every season.”
“And finally?”
“Probably some remote island in the South Pacific, simply for the contrast. I’ve never been scuba diving, but I would want to start so I could shoot the variety of sea life in the coral reef.”
“I hope you get the chance to shoot all of that.”
Again, the sincerity in his voice warmed her. She never would have imagined Elliot could be so supportive of her dreams. “Thank you,” she murmured, more drawn to him than she dared admit. What could possibly be more attractive to a woman than a strong man who believed in her?
Their meanderings led them around the lodge to a viewpoint where they could look out and see the town of Hope’s Crossing, glittering below the mouth of the canyon. Above them, the Milky Way spread out, a vast stunning glitter of sky.
“It’s so beautiful here.”
“Too bad you don’t have your gear out now.”
“I do love night photography. If you have a friend with a high-powered flashlight, you can have him paint an object with the beam of the light and shoot a long exposure. Oh, I guess you saw a few of those in the photographs we took to the gallery today. The one of the old barn north of the lake and also the one of the Lights on the Lake boat parade last Christmas.”
“I loved both of those. I wish I’d had time to really study all your work. Maybe I’ll drive down from Denver after the opening to spend an afternoon at the gallery.”
She gazed at him, stunned by his words as a soft, seductive warmth unfurled in her chest. “You would really do that?”
“Why do you sound so surprised? We’re friends, aren’t we? That’s the sort of thing friends do for each other. Or at least that’s what my robot training manual tells me.”
She winced. “I’m sorry we’ve teased you about that. I don’t think you’re a robot.”
Silence stretched between them, taut and heavy and brimming with things unsaid. She was fiercely aware of him, the heat and strength and power of him.
“Meg,” he began, his voice strained.
He felt it, too, this connection between them. Her gaze met his and the awareness in his eyes stunned her.
He wanted to kiss her again. She wasn’t sure how she knew so completely, but she had no question.
She had two options, as she saw it. She could turn away from him and return to the hotel to spend a restless night alone in her room, tossing and turning. Or she could give them what they both wanted.
It wasn’t really a choice at all. The impulse was simply too great to ignore. She had to taste him one more time, before this surreal interlude ended.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WITHOUT TAKING TIME to think it through further, she crossed the short distance between them, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.
He didn’t move for a moment, his mouth warm against hers and tasting of chocolate and wine from dinner. Anticipation swirled around them, as if the night and the stars and the wind were all watching and waiting to see what they would do. After a long moment, he pulled her to him tightly and kissed her with a ferocity that stole her breath.
Oh, yes. He wanted to kiss her. That was more than clear now.
How was it possible that he could manage to restrain all this passion and heat in most of his life, could hide it away and appear restrained and formal to the rest of the world? She liked thinking few other people in the world ever had the chance to see this side of him. It was a delicious secret she wanted to tuck away against her heart, that Elliot Bailey was a sensuous, passionate creature beneath all his stiff layers.
She pressed her curves against him, loving his hard strength and the feel of his hands on her back, in her hair, against her cheek.
She wanted him. All of him.
Why not take him back to her room, where they could be warm and comfortable, where she could explore all those muscles and see if they could lose control together?
A tiny voice of reason told her that would be a really lousy idea, would complicate what was already an intensely tangled situation.
She told that voice to shut the hell up and tightened her arms around his neck.
Once she had watched a documentary about a cenote in Mexico that looked from above like an ordinary small, calm body of water. Dive deep enough, however, and you could find a wild underground river, complete with rapids and waterfalls and hidden currents.
Elliot was like that, with all this life seething below the surface. She wanted to dive as deeply as she could into him to discover everything he kept from the rest of the world.
She wasn’t sure how long they kissed before she felt a tug against her hand and realized it was Cyrus moving around on his leash, ready to go back.
Reality wormed its way through her subconscious and that warning voice grew louder.
As much as she wanted this kiss to go on and on—and possibly lead to more—she knew it would be far too dangerous.
Every moment she spent with Elliot, in his arms, a few more of those barriers around her heart weakened and he wriggled his way closer. She couldn’t afford to let him inside.
Falling in love with anyone wasn’t in her future. She had already decided it. Falling in love with Elliot would be disastrous. She couldn’t let a few magical kisses sneak beneath her defenses and lead her into doing something foolish beyond belief.
She stepped away, already colder outside the circle of his arms.
It took her several beats to grab her tangled thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence.
“So apparently the two of us don’t have much self-control on moonlit nights.”
His mouth quirked up into that rare almost-smile she found entirely too appealing. “Can you blame us, really? A star-filled sky, a lovely May evening and an even more beautiful woman beside me. Even a robot would find you impossible to resist.”
How could she ever have thought him a robot? He had a deep morass of emotions lurking beneath the surface. He had simply become an expert at holding them all at bay.
“What are we doing here, Elliot?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I hate to state the obvious, but if you don’t know, I must be doing something wrong.”
“You know what I mean. This thing between us... It’s crazy. Completely impossible. Every time we kiss, I tell myself it’s got to be the last time. Then it happens all over again. I can’t think straight when you kiss me. I’m beginning to think you’re my Kryptonite.”
“Kryptonite.”
She couldn’t read his expression in the moonlight but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to. He was probably thinking she sounded ridiculous. Which she did.
“You just have this sexy, brooding, dangerous injured-warrior thing going. I can’t seem to resist it.”
He gazed down at his arm. “Who would have guessed a bullet and a shoulder sling could work so well?”
He didn’t need a sling and he knew it. He only needed those intense blue eyes that made a woman want to tell him all her secrets.
“You can add it to your arsenal of FBI interrogation tactics. I tell you things I have no intention of revealing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll make sure I’m wearing the sling when I talk to the trucker tomorrow about Elizabeth.”
He had to bring that up again, to insert the world back into this moment. She shivered and wrapped her jacket more snugly around her. “You could always forget the interview tomorrow.”
She didn’t know why she said it. The words slipped out, maybe in
part because she resented being reminded of everything between them.
His sharp intake was audible, his eyes like polished chips of agate in the moonlight. “Why would I do that?”
Oh, her big mouth. That was exactly what she meant when she said she couldn’t think straight when he kissed her. He scrambled her brains and she ended up blurting out stupid things she didn’t mean.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No. Why would you say that? Why would I forget the interview tomorrow, when I’ve come all this way?”
She gripped Cyrus’s leash harder. “I don’t know. It’s just...some part of me wishes you would...drop the investigation into Elizabeth’s disappearance. That you could accept that she left on her own and that Luke had nothing to do with it.”
The moment she said the words, she regretted them. His features turned stony and he eased away from her farther. The night suddenly felt frigid, as if an icy wind had just blown out of the mountains and trailed bony claws down her spine.
“Is that why you kissed me? Were you hoping to distract me from digging further into the case?”
Her face flushed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
How was it possible for the soft, sweet tenderness between them to so quickly chill to this cold anger? “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Obviously, it was a mistake for both of us.”
Did he really suspect her of trying to distract him away from the investigation like some...femme fatale? Trade her emotions, her body, to protect her brother? Hurt warred with the anger and she felt a ridiculous lump of emotion lodge in her throat.
“Come on, Cyrus.” Before she could do something monumentally stupid, like burst into tears in front of him, she gripped her dog’s leash and turned toward the lodge with her little pug trotting close behind.
After a moment, she heard him sigh and follow her.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he caught up. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? You’re obviously thinking it. Why hold back? Might as well get the truth out there. Yes, Elliot. The only possible reason I could ever want to kiss you would be to persuade you to drop the investigation and leave my brother alone. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The Cottages on Silver Beach Page 16
