by Devyn Quinn
Tessa shot a glance over one shoulder.
“It just kind of happened,” she said. “In fact, you might say it grew on me.”
Kenneth cocked his head. For a moment it seemed her voice had changed a bit, taking on a tinge of bitterness.
Conversation stalled as they reached the second level.
Tessa stepped into a small vaulted vestibule, flicking on an overhead light. The single bulb cast a soft, luminescent glow throughout the loft. Though the ceiling was ridiculously high, the space was more than a little cramped due to the circular construction of the lighthouse.
Easing in behind her, Kenneth set his duffel bag on the floor. It was the sole piece of luggage he had. It didn’t take long to look the place over because there wasn’t much to look at. The simple design had enough room for the bare basics: a small kitchenette, adjoining bathroom, and, shoved under the staircase that continued up toward the control tower, a bed. A small dinette set and a lounge completed the furnishings. A couple of portholes broke up the solidity of the walls. The natural wood of the walls was austere, the floor bare except for a few necessary throw rugs.
Though not the newest or the most expensive, every item in the small apartment was clean and well kept. The bed was a single, neatly made up with a patchwork quilt. A yellow tomcat had made himself welcome, stomping down the pillows and stretching out on top.
For the first time that day, Tessa showed a bit of animation. “There you are, Jasper.” Crossing the small space, she scooped the cat up, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears. “Sorry, big fella. You’re being evicted.” Cat in hand, she turned around. “This is as good as it gets.”
Ken coughed in the damp atmosphere. The loft was stuffy and humid, the air smelling of the sea. The humidity in the attic created a fine sheen of perspiration on his skin. Catching sight of the fan propped on the countertop, it vaguely occurred to him the lighthouse didn’t have any sort of cooling system.
He couldn’t complain. After all, it was his decision to stick his nose into Tessa’s business. It was his own fault if he sweltered and suffered the heat. Fortunately Maine summers were short; the winters were long and fierce. It wouldn’t be long before the island would be blanketed in snow, its inhabitants digging in against the cold.
Realizing she expected an answer, he nodded. “It’s good.”
She knew he’d spotted the inadequacies right away. “This is the old keeper’s dwelling. It’s not really up to date, but it’s private.”
He nodded his approval. “It’s nicer than I thought it would be.” Since deciding to pack up and leave Jersey, he presently owned nothing more than the clothes he carried and his vehicle. He’d disposed of everything else.
A snort of disbelief escaped her. “Yeah, right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tessa eyed him a long moment. “I’m wondering how long you will last,” she finally answered, frowning. “A lot of the guys Gwen’s hired treat the island like their own private getaway. I can’t tell you how many I’ve caught smoking dope, getting high. One guy was even smuggling, for heaven’s sake.” She shook her head. “Can’t trust anyone nowadays.”
Kenneth couldn’t imagine being a woman alone, a mile from the mainland. That in itself was a recipe for disaster. Tessa had no business living alone. She clearly needed someone trustworthy and reliable.
Like me, came his niggling, intrusive inner voice.
Kenneth immediately backed away from the thought. It was one thing to offer a hand. He might even amuse himself with a few harmless fantasies. But barreling into this woman’s life like a steamroller wasn’t the way to impress her. That smacked of desperation. And desperate people—lonely people—were scary.
“I agree,” Kenneth said, choosing each word carefully. “The world isn’t a safe place.” It was definitely a fact he knew too well.
Tessa laughed shortly. “I don’t mind if a man wants to kick back and have a beer after a hard day’s work, but I definitely don’t need the party- hearty types.” She paused, her face taking on a serious look. “You might think Gwen pretty much strong- armed me into hiring you, but that’s not true. I’m not blind and I’m not dense. I know this place is falling down around my ears. If you’re offering honest help, I could use it.”
Her unexpected admission was a breakthrough. It was the first allowance she’d made that she wouldn’t mind having him hang around. Not a great gesture of welcome, but it was a step in the right direction. It offered a chance they might get along, maybe even like each other.
Past that, he wouldn’t push. Right now just having a place to live and something to do was a godsend. In fact, it was exactly what he needed, a project to take his mind off the fact he was still drifting.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Tessa studied him, her gaze simmering with suspicion and wariness. “My mother always told me that if it seemed too good to be true, it must be some kind of a con.”
“And my mother used to say seeing is believing,” he countered. “So why not just give me a chance and judge for yourself?”
She crossed her arms, nodding with resolution. “You’ve got a two-week trial. If things don’t work out, you leave. No questions asked.”
He nodded. “That’s fair enough.”
She lifted a hand, pointing a finger his way in a scolding manner. “I’ve got some rules, though.”
Kenneth smiled politely. “And those are?”
Tessa jabbed her finger his way. “On the mainland, what you do is your business. Here, what you do is my business. I don’t like strangers, so bringing girls here is off-limits. So are drugs. If you use them, you might as well leave now.”
Uh-oh. Better get this one out of the way. “I do have one drug.”
Her gaze clouded. “What?” Jaw tightening, her tone was icy.
He grinned. “Nicotine. Okay if I smoke?”
Tessa relaxed, voice returning to normal. “Outside, if you must.”
Kenneth laughed. “I must.”
Tessa’s nose wrinkled. “Stinky habit.”
“I’m working on quitting.” The habit was new, a stress thing he hoped to give up in time. For now it was the best therapy for jumpy nerves. He’d rejected medication for his depression, preferring to work through the problem himself. “Got to admit I’ve got a carton packed, though.”
Tessa eyed the single duffel bag he’d returned to the mainland to retrieve. “That all you got?”
He shrugged. “Pretty much, but it’s crammed full. I think I’ve got about a week’s worth of clothes.”
She paused a beat. “You travel light.”
Kenneth nodded, but didn’t explain. At this point in his life, he wasn’t into being weighed down with useless possessions. “I hope you have a washing machine. Otherwise I’ll have to work naked.” His tone came out a little huskier than he intended. The statement he’d jokingly offered sounded like a blatant come-on.
He mentally gave himself a swift kick and prayed his brand-new boss would take no offense. He wouldn’t blame her if she tossed his duffel in the water and told him to start swimming.
A tinge of pink immediately crept into Tessa Lonike’s cheeks. Her grip on the cat tightened, causing poor old Jasper to meow heartily and wiggle in disapproval. “You can have laundry privileges once a week,” she allowed.
Kenneth psychically released the breath he’d been holding. A relief. She could be a good sport. Perhaps there was even a sense of humor lurking under her queen-bee attitude. No time like the present to find out. He couldn’t resist taking another poke at her. “Don’t think you could handle me naked again?”
Catching on, Tessa resumed her normal, cool demeanor. She arched a brow, pursing her sensual mouth. Vivid jade green eyes ruled over the sexy arch of her full, sensual lips. “I’ve seen you nude,” she sniffed. “And it’s nothing to get excited about.”
Ken winced. Ouch. He’d thrust and she’d parried with perfect precision, unsheathing
her claws and digging them deeply into his skin.
Too bad. All work and no play made things dull.
He tried again. “Any chance you might change your mind if you see me again with my shirt off?” He was pretty proud of his body, and he worked out regularly to regain the weight and muscle he’d lost after Jen died. For a while, the only nutrition he’d been consuming consisted of whiskey straight from the bottle. It was no way to live and yet another terrible way to commit suicide. Working out daily had helped ease his many frustrations. While pumping iron, he didn’t have to think. Just do.
Pressing her mouth into a flat line, Tessa vehemently shook her head. “Not going to happen. I’m single, free, and I like it that way.”
He couldn’t help smiling. She looked like a little girl resisting a bite of food she found displeasing. “So what do you do for a thrill?”
“I get a book and a glass of wine,” she shot back drily. “Unlike a man, that entertainment never disappoints me.”
He studied her, intrigued. She didn’t even crack a smile when she said it. “I’m always willing to try something new. Maybe you can recommend a few good books.”
It dimly occurred to him he was doing something he hadn’t thought would be possible ever again. He was flirting. With a woman he found absolutely and utterly adorable.
The realization hit like lightning streaking from the sky. For the longest time he hadn’t been living. He’d been existing, a prisoner trapped in the gray, numbing fog of grief. Living with Jen’s ghost had been an exhausting endeavor. He could second-guess and reshape the facts in his head, but nothing would change the actual event of her murder. If he wanted to stay sane, stay alive, then the past had to be put to rest.
Survival meant moving on. To a place he wanted to be.
He was thirty-six years old and starting life over, from scratch. For the first time in a long time he felt good. Maybe even happy.
Tessa pulled a face. “Don’t be expecting any hearts-and-flowers romances. I like horror, a lot of good, bloody gore.”
By the look of her extreme tats, that one should have been a no-brainer.
He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Realizing he relied on her good graces to allow him to live on the island, Ken backed off. She’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t particularly interested in him. In fact, she didn’t even really seem to like men. Anytime a woman ragged on men it usually meant some heart-smashing bastard lurked in her past. And if that were indeed true, then the son of a bitch deserved a good ass kicking.
Unzipping his duffel bag, he dug out a fresh pack of cigarettes.
Tessa frowned her disapproval and immediately pointed to the tower. “Up there, please.” She plopped the cat back on the bed, and Jasper yawned, content to return to his nap. The big cat stretched out. The bed was his and he wasn’t sharing.
Continuing their walk, they followed the stairs to the lighthouse tower. Bypassing the service room, where radio and other communication equipment was kept, they stepped onto a catwalk surrounding the massive enclosed lantern. A circular iron awning overhead offered protection from the elements.
Tearing the cellophane wrapper off his cigarettes, Ken tapped one out. “So that still work?” he asked, digging in his pocket for his lighter.
Tessa nodded. “In olden times the lamp was powered by oil. It’s electric now, drawing its charge off a small generator. And it still works.” She patted the clear glass surrounding and protecting the lantern. “It’s one of the oldest working lighthouses in Maine, built in 1870. Right now we stand one hundred and sixty- five feet above sea level.” She smiled, truly animated for the first time since he’d arrived.
Flicking his lighter, Kenneth lit up and inhaled. A rush of calming nicotine filled his lungs. Now that the sun was beginning to set, the day was cooling off. The salty breeze riffling in from the sea carried a hint of the coming change in seasons. Winter would be fierce. “I would call that job security.”
“It’s been in the family so long, it’s like an actual member.”
“So this is where your people come from?”
Smile dimming a little, Tessa turned and leaned against the waist-high rail. “Considering my family has owned this island for more than a hundred and forty years, I guess you could say that.” Despite her answer, she cast her gaze over the wide expanse of the all-consuming sea. “Before that, who knows . . . ?”
“A lot of history in this place.”
“More than you’ll ever know,” Tessa muttered under her breath. “What about you, Mr. Randall? Why did you come back to Little Mer Island?”
Taking one final drag off his cigarette, Kenneth smashed out the remnant. Realizing he had no place to discard the leftover butt, he tucked it back in the pack. “Looks like I’m going to need a few ashtrays.”
Tessa nodded. At least he hadn’t just tossed it over the railing. The idea of a pile of butts littering the base of the lighthouse wasn’t appealing in the least. She didn’t like the habit, but she could tolerate it as long as he kept his smoking outside.
“You been smoking long?”
Shaking his head, Kenneth turned and leaned into the rail. “Off and on,” he said. “Mostly on lately.”
“So is that part of the story you’re going to tell me?”
He didn’t get it. “Story?”
“The one about who you are, where you came from, and how you ended up here.” Tessa’s reason for asking wasn’t entirely because she was interested in his life. She wanted a few details. Details she knew Gwen was already checking on the Internet.
As owner of By the Sea, a hotel on the mainland, her sister often ran background checks on applicants. No doubt Gwen was already doing a search as they spoke. Gwen was more trusting of the human race—but only so far. It helped that Kenneth had been staying at Gwen’s place. Her sister would already have his driver’s license and vehicle plate on file.
If there was anything lurking in the man’s past, Gwen would find it. But Tessa also wanted to run her own litmus test. Just how honest would he be, face-to-face?
She already knew looks were deceiving. She’d been misled before by a handsome face and charismatic personality. And one time was enough. She wasn’t anybody’s fool anymore.
Hr shrugged. “Not much to tell. I was born. I grew up. I moved to Maine. End of story.”
“Not much of a story.”
“It’s pretty boring.”
The man played his cards close to his vest. Tessa wanted a peek. “If I were to ask you if your life was a drama, a comedy, or a tragedy, what would you choose?”
A long silence ensued. By the look on his face, her question struck a definite nerve. She already knew what the answer wouldn’t be. Like a lightbulb shorting out, his expression instantly darkened. Whatever was going through his mind wasn’t pleasant.
The sun was beginning to disappear on the far horizon, bathing the lighthouse in cool shadows. His face, too, was shadowed, closed. The easy rapport of the last few minutes had vanished like a ghost in fog. “You really want an answer to that?”
“Yeah.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Tragedy.”
Tessa’s stomach curled into tight knots. She’d seen him at his weakest. Whatever his past held, it was enough to bring this strapping man down to his knees. “Would it have anything to do with what happened last year?”
Fidgeting a little, his mouth pulled down. “You could say that.” The turn in conversation appeared to be making him uncomfortable. She wondered when he would snap, tell her to back off and mind her own business.
Tessa considered, wondering just how much she should reveal from her point of view. Lying, pretending she hadn’t seen him go into the water, simply wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to downplay the seriousness of the day. If the man required help—real help—she needed to know. The island was remote, not readily accessible. If any emergency arose, she was on her own.
“I was in the tower and I saw you
go into the water that day,” she admitted at last. “I’ve got a pretty good view up here, as you now know.” Not wanting to spook him, she tried to keep her tone noncommittal. All she could do was show a willingness to listen and hope he wanted to talk.
Kenneth barely suppressed a groan. “I didn’t think anyone actually lived on the island. All the signs say ‘private property’ and ‘no trespassing.’ ”
A vague sense of uneasiness rippled through her. “Well, now you know differently. That’s the way life is on an island with a working lighthouse . . . that and the shore patrol I handle. All part of the job of being a Lonike.”
Amazed, he shook his head. “I can’t believe you rescued me all by yourself.” He was trying to take a detour, turning conversation away from himself.
Tessa motored straight ahead. “Training. I knew when you went under you didn’t intend to come up again.” There. She’d said it. He wasn’t the first suicidal person she’d pulled out of the murky depths of the bay.
A deep, body-shuddering sigh suddenly moved him. “At the time, I didn’t intend to.” His muscles perceptibly bunched with tension. He clutched the railing with such a tight grip his knuckles began to turn white.
Holding him at arm’s length was going to be difficult. He understood the pain of being alone, feeling lost in this world.
“I think we’ve all had those moments.”
Kenneth’s right hand moved to his left, fingering the plain gold band he wore. “I’ve had more than my share, that’s for sure.”
Tessa’s eyes followed the movement. It was the first time she’d noticed. He wore a wedding ring. “You’re married,” she murmured, unaware she spoke aloud.
Gaze dropping to his hand, he hesitated an interminable moment. “Widowed. My wife died about a year and a half ago.” He swallowed thickly. “You must have thought I was a cheat for hitting on you.”
Tessa felt like a twit. She’d judged him on looks alone, and had been totally wrong. “I honestly didn’t notice. I was too busy being pissed off at you.”
