Half Moon Bay

by Meryl Sawyer

  Even now, without looking in his direction, she could feel his eyes on her with a gaze so penetrating it made her breath catch. She smiled at Kyle and said yes to something he said, then realized that she’d ordered a drink. Two drinks in one evening. Two men. Too much for The Beast.

  She was courting trouble.

  She inhaled a calming breath, winked at Kyle, then gazed out at the terraced rear deck, directly over the water. Silver ribbons of moonlight glinted off the sea, and a warm breeze ruffled the palms, bringing with it the heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine mixed with the salty tang of the ocean.

  She couldn’t believe she was here, living a real life, enjoying herself. If only her mother had lived to see her now. How proud she would have been.

  If only she didn’t have to worry about Dexxter Foxx.

  Chapter 14

  It was almost two o’clock in the morning when she returned with Kyle to Half Moon Bay. After dinner at Louie’s, Trevor had gone over to Clive’s Truman Annex home for coffee. Kyle had insisted that she see some of Key West’s famous night life. Thankfully, Bubbles had tagged along.

  Matt, who’d been disturbingly silent throughout dinner, had taken a water taxi back to Sunset Key. She’d released a long, deep breath when he’d left. All evening she’d dodged his penetrating stare, wondering how much he suspected.

  When would he expose her?

  “Next time it’ll be even more fun,” Kyle said, his voice low as they came up the walk to Half Moon Bay. “You’ll be able to dance.”

  Next time? She was too startled to do more than nod. This was as close as any man had ever come to asking her for a date.

  They stopped at the front door, which faced the center of the small private island. Kyle had been friendly all evening, putting his arm around her and helping her walk with the cast. It had taken a little time, but she had become accustomed to having him touch her.

  Now, though, she was disturbingly aware that they were alone. At Barefoot Bob’s, a Deadhead hangout, Bubbles had run into some guy she knew. They’d gone down the block to Tequila Flats to sample premium tequilas, leaving her alone with Kyle.

  Well, not alone exactly. There had been plenty of people on the streets, and the Sunset Key launch was crowded because it was the last commercial boat run to the island until morning. But once they’d started down the brick path toward the far end of the key, no one else was around.

  “I’m going to be gone for a few days on a special assignment,” Kyle said, his alert eyes shifted, checking the shadows, the way he had all evening. “I’ll call you when I get back.”

  His words sent her confidence spiraling upward. She was over her head with him, for sure. Once again she wished she had more experience with men. “Thanks, you have no idea how much fun I had tonight. It was great.”

  “Really?” he sounded surprised. “You seemed—I don’t know—distracted. I thought you were involved with someone.”

  She shook her head and managed a smile. Involved? Of course not. She’d never been on a date, never been kissed. The list of nevers was endless.

  Now all those nevers seemed possible.

  Kyle’s gaze was riveted on her lips, and she thought he was going to kiss her. The sensual light in his eyes confirmed her suspicions. A pulsing knot formed in her chest as she waited, senses on alert.

  The minute he kissed her, Kyle would be disappointed. A man this sophisticated wouldn’t be interested in kissing a woman who had less experience than the average fifteen-year-old.

  “Hey, Shelly, you’re looking at me like I’m from another planet. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Bubbles sold me alien abduction insurance. I haven’t got a care in the world.”

  Kyle stepped back and rolled his eyes heavenward. Unless she missed her bet, he didn’t seem to be the praying type.

  “I just remembered my dog, Jiggs. I’ve been gone for hours. He’ll be frantic.” She rose onto the ball of her good foot and smacked her lips against his cheek. “Call me when you get back.”

  Like a breeze through the palms, she was inside the house before she heard him say, “Good night, Shelly.”

  She leaned back against the closed door to catch her breath. Too bad she didn’t have an instruction manual: Dating Men for Dummies. Other women grew into the role, learning from the first time a little boy chased them around the school yard, then graduating to more sophisticated interactions.

  She wandered into the kitchen to find Jiggs, who usually hung out with the cats. Zeke and Zoe, an elderly couple whom Trevor had taken in, were filling Yohimbe packets. Bubbles had told her the powder was an aphrodisiac. She had her doubts, but people went for it.

  The couple had been homeless when Trevor found them, living off the food in the Hard Rock Café’s Dumpster. They had gotten a schtick, as Bubbles would say. They spent their time working the crowds waiting to tour Hemingway’s house. The Yohimbe scam had netted them enough to rent a small loft over a garage. They were moving out in a few days.

  “You two are up late,” she said, glancing around the spacious kitchen for Jiggs.

  “Tomorrow five buses of Japanese tourists are stopping at Hemingway’s place,” Zeke said.

  She couldn’t help returning Zeke’s engaging smile that made his blue eyes twinkle. His long silver-white hair and turned-up mustache reminded her of Wild Bill Hickok—in a Hawaiian shirt.

  “The sons of Nippon are into aphrodisiacs big-time,” Zoe said as she spooned Kool-Aid powder into packets labeled YOHMB.

  It was all she could do not to laugh. The older couple came from a small town in Wisconsin, but somewhere along the way to paradise they’d picked up a lot of teenage jargon. It sounded strange coming from grandparents.

  She was getting used to them. To Key West. Nothing was too wild, too unusual, to be accepted. Maybe that’s why she felt safe here. She could blend in without being noticed.

  “Have you seen Jiggs?”

  Zeke shook his head. “Poor thing—”

  “He got into the catnip that Trevor keeps in the pantry,” Zoe put in.

  “Jiggs kept running in circles after his tail, then tried to climb the palm tree like Bingo.”

  Bingo was a one-eyed tom that Trevor had found wandering the grounds of the Little White House, once a favorite vacation spot of President Truman’s. Trevor had no response from the cat-found posters he’d put up around the Truman Annex’s cluster of posh homes. Small wonder.

  Despite having only one eye, Bingo was the terror of Half Moon Bay. He stalked the egrets every morning as they tried to feed and fearlessly attempted to catch sand sharks basking in the shallow water near the shore. She had no doubt that Bingo had once again broken into the pantry and upended the jar of catnip.

  But what would possess Jiggs, the world’s finickiest dog, to eat catnip?

  “Jiggs kept making awesome noises.”

  “Awesome?” Zeke scoffed at Zoe.

  “Maybe Jiggs was trying to bark,” she told the older couple. “I’ve never heard him bark. He whimpers sometimes, but he never barks.”

  Zeke shook his head. “I tell you, Jiggs was trying to meow. He thinks he’s a cat.”

  “Like ta Oded, but Matt saved him.”

  Oh, Jiggs, no. The poor little guy had suffered so much already. Then a wave of anxiety swept through her. Matt had saved him. She needed to stay as far away from Matt as possible, but now she would have to thank him.

  “It was way cool,” Zeke added. “Matt poured cod liver oil down Jiggs’s throat—”

  “Jiggs started upchucking all over the place.” Zoe shook her head. “But it got the catnip out of his stomach.”

  “Where’s Jiggs now?”

  Zoe crooked a tightly permed head of blue-white hair toward the terrace. “He’s resting outside with Matt.”

  Unsteady after so many hours upright, she limped out onto the terrace. Coming out of the brightly lit kitchen into the darkness made it difficult to get her bearings. She paused a moment,
glancing around.

  Off to the side was a dark form on one of the chaises facing the ocean. Matt. With any luck, he would be asleep. Treading softly, she moved across the grass.

  Matt’s arms were crossed behind his head. There was just enough moonlight to see he was awake and staring up at the stars. At his feet Jiggs was curled into a ball, asleep.

  “Thanks for helping Jiggs,” she said. “I understand he was really sick.”

  “No big deal,” Matt said without making an effort to look in her direction. “Someone should explain to him that he’s not a cat.”

  “Right,” she said. Jiggs had graduated from eating popcorn to Nine Lives. He was about the size of a cat and acted more like one than a dog. “It’s an identity crisis. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.”

  She hooked the cane over her arm and reached for Jiggs. The poor little guy must have fought hard when Matt fed him the cod liver oil. His three sessions at Groomingdale’s getting moisturizing treatments were wasted. He looked like a rat with long, greasy fur.

  Jiggs scuttled out of her reach, dashing to Matt. Great! She’d saved Jiggs, and now he was kissing up to the man who had doused him with cod liver oil.

  “There’s probably an uglier dog … somewhere on the planet,” Matt said.

  “Beauty is more about what’s on the inside than what’s on the outside. He’s a sweet dog. He—”

  “You’re right. He’s grown on me.” Matt stroked Jiggs’s head, and the little dog’s tail beat against the plush cushion. “In the morning I’ll take him to the groomer while you have your cast removed.”

  “That would be great.”

  At dinner she’d told Kyle about seeing the doctor in the morning. She hadn’t realized that Matt had been paying attention. All through the meal he’d seemed bored … or something. Now a charged silence filled the air between them like a tropical storm gearing up to unleash its fury.

  In one lithe movement he swung his long legs to the ground and sat up, taking her by surprise. He tugged her arm and pulled her down beside him, saying, “You can quit pretending.”

  The heaviness in her chest intensified under his scathing gaze. There was no point in trying to fool Matthew Jensen any longer. He’d known Shelly intimately; he was bound to realize, sooner or later, that she wasn’t the woman he had once loved. All through dinner she’d refused to look at him, but she’d sensed his skeptical gaze tracking her and knew he was suspicious.

  “Ignoring me, pretending I don’t exist, isn’t going to cure your obsession.”

  Braced to be exposed, it took a full second for his words to register. Matt hadn’t guessed the truth; he still thought she was Shelly.

  “Jensen, give it a break, will you?” My, she sounded tough, didn’t she? “I’m over you. Can’t your ego accept that fact?”

  “My ego has nothing to do with this.” His brow creased and his moody eyes glinted in the darkness, but his voice was lethally calm.

  “I’m not pretending. I’m over you.”

  Now, that was an out-and-out lie. There was something so compelling about him that she knew she would never be over Matthew Jensen. In her heart she would always remember the voice in the darkness, his encouraging words luring her back to the land of the living.

  Some part of her still longed for that man. She was suddenly aware of how close they were, sitting shoulder to shoulder, his muscled thigh touching hers. A shiver of some inexplicable sensation crackled down her spine.

  She told herself she wasn’t really attracted to Matt. What captivated her was the image she’d formed. Now, she truly knew the meaning of reality check.

  “Shelly, if you’re not careful, you’ll be in trouble … big-time.”

  Jiggs crawled into her lap and the putrid odor of cod liver oil wafted up as she asked, “What are you talking about?”

  His large hand cupped her chin. Her skin prickled at his touch, then became warm except for the cool spot where the birthmark had been. Her heart beat in heavy, uneven lurches, and she had to force herself to look directly into his intense eyes.

  “Kyle Parker is not your average guy,” he informed her with perplexing hostility underscoring every word. “If you stalk him, you’ll run into a bunch of military bastards.”

  “Stalk?” She pulled back so he was no longer touching her. “You think I’m going to stalk Kyle?”

  “The experts say people with obsession disorders tend to transfer the obsession from one person to another.”

  She tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but the way he was studying her was even more disturbing than his words. Her senses were on full alert, anticipating. Expecting what?

  “Kyle doesn’t trust his own shadow. That tells me he’s either a highly trained SEAL or he’s with the CIA.”

  Handsome and blessed with the devil’s own charm, Kyle Parker was wound a little too tight. Even though she had no experience with men, she understood this much.

  “If you stalk Kyle, hiding in the bushes taking pictures, he’ll shoot first—then ask questions.”

  “That’s absurd. Kyle and I are just—”

  He lowered his head, and his lips pressed against hers, smothering her response. Stunned, she clutched Jiggs’s greasy body. Matt pulled her closer, slanting his mouth over hers, more insistent now. Aware of the strength of his arms and the restrained power in his body, she stiffened.

  His moist, firm mouth demanded a response, and she released Jiggs, then tentatively wound her arms around his shoulders. A little bell went off in her brain—stop. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but she didn’t pull back.

  She couldn’t, she honestly couldn’t. She clearly remembered how wonderful Matt’s embrace had felt when she’d been in the hospital. In spite of her better judgment, some part of her had longed to be in his arms again.

  He raised his mouth from hers for a second and gazed into her eyes. In the shadowy darkness it was impossible to read his expression. She didn’t have time to speculate on what he was thinking. His lips reclaimed hers, and he pulled her so close that her chest pillowed against his powerful torso, flattening her breasts.

  She told herself to part her lips a little more, the way they did on the soap operas. The slow, drugging kiss sent heat spiraling through her as his tongue traced the soft fullness of her lower lip. Her breasts, already feeling flushed, swelled with pleasure.

  Inhaling deeply, some elusive scent with a trace of citrus filled her lungs. Matt, she realized with a pang of intense emotion. It was the masculine smell she recalled from the dark abyss of unconsciousness. The scent brought back such potent memories.

  Here was the white knight who had rescued her.

  The man of her dreams.

  But she wasn’t dreaming now, she reminded herself as his tongue stole between her lips. She ventured forward, brushed his tongue with the tip of hers, then jerked it back. He was much more bold; his tongue invaded her mouth with startling aggression.

  His lips did not become softer as he kissed her. Instead, his passion seemed to increase as his tongue cornered hers. Their tongues danced, darting little forays at first, then the cadence slowed, allowing their tongues to mate. Her pulse throbbed in her temples, gaining speed as she savored the kiss and the heat rising from his chest as his heart beat against her breast.

  This was what she’d been waiting for all her life, wasn’t it? Rational thought eluded her, but on some level she knew she hadn’t wanted Kyle to kiss her because she had wanted Matt to be the first man she kissed.

  Only Matt.

  With a start she realized his hand had slipped under the cropped T-shirt. He was caressing the bare skin along her lower back. His fingers coasted upward a scant inch at a time, moving around toward her rib cage. Any second he would be touching her breasts.

  The little alarm bell that had been tinkling in the back of her brain since the moment his lips met hers became a deafening GONG! She wasn’t ready for this. She twisted hard in his arms and managed to free herself.
/>   With as much dignity as she could muster, she reached for her cane, which was propped against the chaise. Jiggs had jumped down and was at her feet, his head cocked, watching them.

  “You’re still hot for me, Shelly. You’ll love me until I die, remember?”

  His voice had a husky, sensual quality like the rasp of a cat’s tongue. In the aftershock of the kiss it took a minute for his words to register. Why would Shelly say she would love him until he died? How very odd.

  “If you’re going to fixate on anyone, obsess on me. I’ve been down that road with you before, babe. I can handle it.”

  White-hot anger arced through her, and for a moment she was incapable of speaking. She could have kissed another man tonight, but she hadn’t. She had wanted Matt to be the first man to kiss her.

  To her that single kiss had been worth all the suffering, the years of being The Beast. How many times had she watched lovers walking hand in hand … and secretly wished? She’d tried to steel herself against those dangerous longings, but it hadn’t been possible.

  At night, alone in her bed, she would pretend she was someone else. She never asked for too much. She’d just wanted to be ordinary—not The Beast. Tonight she thought her wishes had come true when he’d taken her into his arms.

  She’d been transported back to the time in the hospital when he’d held her in his arms. The first man to ever hold her. The only man she’d ever wanted to hold her had finally kissed her. For a moment a single kiss had made up for a lifetime of loneliness and ridicule.

  To him, it was nothing more than a way of proving a point.

  Common sense said to march away, but then she realized that’s what The Beast would have done. She wasn’t Rochelle Ralston, and she wasn’t The Beast either. She was a new person, someone who didn’t have to take this.

  She stabbed the air with the index finger of her left hand. “You know, Matt, if you dropped dead tomorrow, I’d dance on your grave.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say a word.

  Chapter 15