The swarm of butterflies took off in her stomach again. He was right. It might not be so awful. She turned toward him and kissed his mouth. “Thank you. But we might not be able to stay in a luxury hotel on the beach with everything paid for. What if we had to leave and make our way in this time? Would you really want to struggle through the Depression and World War II? What if the picture in your watch is actually us or past-life versions of ourselves like you mentioned? Wouldn’t that be some sort of cataclysmic paradox thingy? Anyway, I’m not sure I’d want to live without a microwave oven or clothes dryer or the internet or—”
He hushed her with a quick kiss. “I get it. But to be fair we’d also be in the unique position of knowing what was about to happen in advance. We would definitely be able to avoid the big hurricane. And we could invest in General Electric or IBM—”
“And risk altering history? The smallest thing we do could have unimaginable repercussions. Surely you’ve heard of the ripple in the pond theory.”
“Which may or not be accurate. There are a lot of different time-travel theories. But just in case, we could move to Tahiti or New Zealand and live off the land, like natives.”
She opened her mouth to respond but no good argument came to her. Living with Noah on a primitive, isolated island didn’t sound bad at all.
He laughed and pulled her close for a hard kiss. “That was fun. I get the impression you haven’t had enough fun in your life. Maybe that’s why I’ve come back into your life. To make sure you have more fun.”
She tried to give him a disapproving look but ended up smiling. “Maybe you’re right. But can we get back to the real issue now?”
“All right,” he muttered with a fake pout. “Let’s see. There was the man in my mirror who I’m pretty sure was Robert Davenport. There’s the question of whether he really committed suicide. And since I was thinking about him a lot in connection with the new book, I’d say he’s a good possibility.”
Maggie agreed though her gut was saying he wasn’t the ghost they were here to help. “Then there was the woman’s voice I heard in the Amethyst Cave. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I believe it was someone other than the maid.”
“Okay, then we’ll keep calling her the weeping woman. Like I said before, there were a lot of references and guesses but everything I read was pretty vague. There were just too many deaths.”
“Yes but I think we can eliminate all of those connected with the 1928 hurricane or World War II patients. There has to be a reason we came to this precise moment of 1927. If we’re supposed to fix something or save someone and we only have a small window of opportunity, it has to be something happening right here, right now.”
“I agree. Unless something huge happens right in front of us or someone in need falls in our laps, we have three possibilities and we only have specific information on two of them.”
Maggie nodded slowly as she tried to think in terms of a mystery plot. What would the amateur sleuth do first? “It shouldn’t be too hard to find out if Shannon O’Toole is pregnant and desperate. Figuring out if she’s in danger of being murdered might be a little harder. What about Robert Davenport? He didn’t die for three more years.”
Noah took a minute to refresh both their cups with hot coffee, thanks to the little candle still burning beneath the pot. Maggie couldn’t help but think about whether anything they did now could change Davenport’s fate. On one hand, if there was no suicide, there would be no reason for Lillian Davenport to be so defensive about her family. On the other hand, he was such a prominent figure it was impossible to guess what else might change about the future if he lived another thirty or forty years.
Thoughts of Lillian Davenport’s warning and order to report to her caused Maggie’s brain to leap to a different question. “With everything being so weird I didn’t think about what is happening in our time. Isn’t there someone expecting you to check in with them? I mean, a day or two might not cause a problem but what about after that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe there’s a version of us continuing to do whatever we’d be doing there. Or maybe a week here is only a blip in time there and no one will notice our absence.”
“I think there was an old Star Trek episode with that concept.” She decided to hold on to that one to eliminate one thing from her worry list.
As soon as Noah settled back on the bed, he returned to the more important matter. “If Davenport’s the one we’re supposed to help and we go with the idea he was actually murdered, maybe this is the time he makes a bad decision, like taking on a greedy partner. Reynard said he’s in residence at the moment. Maybe there’s a way to bump into him somewhere.”
“Or maybe we have those lovely golfing outfits because we’ll have an opportunity to play a round with him.”
“We can’t dismiss anything but you’d better hope our figuring this thing out does not depend on my golf game. I really suck.”
Her mind shot straight to how talented he was at sucking and his chuckle let her know he could tell exactly where her thoughts had gone.
He leaned over, nipped her earlobe and murmured, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” His fingers caught a bit of the sheet and pulled it down to expose her nipples. They puckered immediately. “So pretty. It’s like they’re begging me to give them a little suck.” His head bent, sucked one pink peak then the other.
Her head fell back onto the pillows and her spine arched. All thoughts of murders and tests with deadlines drifted away as his tongue grazed a wet trail down to her navel. She felt the now-familiar wetness trickling from her vagina and moaned.
His tongue ran back up the center of her body, along her throat to her lips. She extended her tongue and for a few seconds they caressed each other with only those parts. Then he gave hers a nip and eased back. “I had every intention of keeping our minds on the problem but I don’t have quite as much resolve as I thought did.” He gave her mouth a light peck. “Since I wouldn’t want you to think I’m just a tease, I’ll leave it up to you. Should we get dressed and start our investigation or put it off for a few more hours?”
She gave him a quick kiss. “You are very definitely a tease. But I know you’re also pretty good at following through sooner or later. As much as I would enjoy staying right here, I think we need to keep reminding each other that we only have a limited time to figure this all out.”
He made another little-boy pout and flipped the sheet back up over her chest. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes to get dressed before I exercise my rights as your employer.”
* * * * *
Maggie had found the first walk-around with Noah quite fascinating. What they’d been doing for the last two hours, however, was more of a sit-in. She had donned comfortable flats in readiness of whatever path they would be taking but after a quick, arm-in-arm stroll halfway around the property, the oppressive afternoon heat had gotten to both of them and Noah changed the plan for the day. Choosing two, throne-like rattan chairs under a giant potted palm in the lobby, they had settled in. Huge fans blew a salty breeze through the open doors, making it relatively comfortable, which accounted for the number of guests doing the same thing they were.
A wave at a bellman had gotten them copies of the local newspaper, the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. The larger papers were two days old but current enough for what Noah had in mind. He had suggested they look for anything in the papers that might be relevant to their quest. He had also told her to let him know if she got a feeling about anything she read. The coverage of old news as if it were new was quite interesting but absolutely nothing raised a red flag for Maggie in the Trib or the Times.
Noah handed her the lightweight local paper. “Okay, try this one. It’s mostly society stuff but I saw a few mentions of events at the Davenport. It gave me an idea of how we could meet the Davenports.”
Maggie could tell Noah was still talking about his idea but an article on page two had her full attention. If he hadn’t instructed her to
use her intuition she probably would have ignored the way her gaze was caught by the pictures of the newly engaged couple. “We need to get an invitation to this party.”
He stopped talking. “What? What party?”
She showed him the article. “It could be because of him or her or both of them. But I think they have something to do with why we’re here. I can’t explain—”
“There’s no need. Remember, I’m completely on board the anything’s-possible train.” He took the paper back and read the first line of the article she pointed to. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got. ‘Florida Legislator George Martin and his wife will host a reception in the Davenport’s Sapphire Ballroom to celebrate the engagement of their son, Broderick, to Amelia Gaviston of the Philadelphia Gavistons.’ It’s tomorrow night.”
“We need to be there. Just thinking about it gives me the shivers. Maybe Amelia’s the weeping woman.”
“Or maybe Broderick is the one we need to warn Robert Davenport to stay away from. It says the Martin family owns a home nearby so it would be logical for them to be acquaintances of the Davenports.”
Maggie sat forward. “So they could be invited to the reception as guests.”
“Agreed.” Noah refolded the two larger newspapers, set them on the wicker table in front of them then scanned the article again. “I don’t think we can dismiss the parents of the happy couple. Prohibition offered a lot of opportunity for a crooked politician. And this write-up makes the Gavistons sound like an old-money family. I can think of several different motivations for murder with this group of players.”
Maggie smiled. “Just thinking of television crime dramas, I can come up with at least a half dozen. Add in a pregnant immigrant maid and there’s another half dozen.”
“Well, unless something more obvious comes along, I’d say we follow this lead and see where it takes us.”
“Sounds good to me. Any ideas on how we get ourselves invited to the party?”
Noah grinned slowly. “Yeah, I think I’ve got a good one.” He pulled the one sheet with the reception announcement out of the paper, folded it and put it in his pocket. “First rule for getting away with a lie is to stick as closely as possible to the truth. I’m an author wanting to set my new book here. As my assistant…and wife, it will be your job to brag about how popular I am and how good it would be for the hotel to have me snooping around.” They discussed a few different possibilities then walked over to the concierge.
Maggie hardly got their cover story out before the man escorted them directly to the manager’s office and introduced them.
Mr. Eckhart was a slightly built man with a bald crown surrounded by a ring of thin, gray hair. He looked both nervous and exhausted but he rose instantly and greeted them as though he had nothing to do more important than talking to them.
Maggie put on her most serious, professional expression and rattled off some make-believe titles in hopes the man wouldn’t know the difference. “I’m sure you’re familiar with Mr. Nash’s popular novels—Coming Home, Sophie’s Journey and, of course, the one they’re making a film of, Saving Private Jones.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Oh my, yes, of course. Naturally I was alerted that you were guests and was truly hoping I would have the opportunity to meet you both.” His smile wavered. “Is there a problem? Was our hospitality fruit basket delivered?”
She pursed her lips. “There was no fruit basket but otherwise everything was satisfactory. In fact, Mr. Nash would like to have it noted that the maid assigned to our bungalow was exceptionally helpful this morning. He would like an extra dollar put in her pay envelope this week from him. She said her name is Shannon O’Toole.”
Mr. Eckhart frowned, clearly having no idea which maid she was, but he scribbled the name down on a piece of paper with a dollar sign. “That is very generous. I’m sure she will appreciate it. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Maggie quickly delivered their almost-true cover story, which he bought just as quickly. “Besides a tour of the back offices, he would like to interview Robert Davenport.”
“I don’t see a problem. I will check with Mr. Davenport about his schedule and let you know.”
“Mr. Nash would also like to attend one of the hotel’s bigger social events. There’s a high-society party scene in his new book and he would like to make it as realistic as possible. Is there something like that scheduled in the next day or two?” She forced herself to keep breathing as he looked at his calendar.
“As a matter of fact, there is a reception in the Sapphire Ballroom tomorrow evening that could be ideal for Mr. Nash’s purpose. Of course I will have to speak to the client but under the circumstances, I would think he would be delighted to have Mr. Nash as a guest.”
“And my wife,” Noah added quietly, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the manager’s office.
Mr. Eckhart smiled nervously. “Of course. Of course. I will have a message delivered to your bungalow as soon as I have all the arrangements made.”
“Thank you,” Maggie said, holding out her hand without thinking. The man looked at it with a bit of surprise but then gave it a light shake. “Is there anything else I might assist you with today? Perhaps dinner reservations?”
She turned to Noah. “What do you think, dear?”
Noah fought a grin. “I was thinking about something outdoors at sunset.”
The manager’s smile was confident this time. “I would suggest the Emerald Patio at seven thirty. Because of the heat, jackets and ties are optional for gentlemen.” He gave Maggie a quizzical look.
“That will be perfect,” she replied with an approving smile and out the door the famous novelist and his wife/assistant went.
Maggie and Noah maintained their aloof expressions until they were through the lobby and outside. The instant they were out of view, Noah picked her up and swung her around. “You were fantastic!”
“I know,” she exclaimed. “That was so much fun. I mean, as long as you forget that we might be tracking down a killer.” She clapped her hands and hopped in place with excitement. “What should we do next?”
He tucked her arm through his and started strolling along the boardwalk. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything we might accomplish between now and dinner so I was thinking we might take a little nap.”
“A nap?” She frowned up at him then saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, that kind of nap.” Her heart did a little flip in her chest and she hugged his arm closer to her side. “I am a little…sleepy.”
As soon as they were inside the bungalow, Noah pulled her into his embrace and her arms circled his neck. She rose on tiptoes to meet his lips and immediately felt his erection push against her lower abdomen. Shifting her hips from side to side, she murmured, “Wow, that didn’t take long.”
He chuckled, covered her bottom with his hands and moved against her. “All your fault, Sugarlips. You were so hot, all strong and pushy with that poor manager… I was just lucky these pants are made so loose or everyone in the lobby would have known exactly what I was thinking about.”
His mouth crashed down on hers with a hunger that took her breath away. She pushed her tongue between his teeth and moaned when he sucked it all the way in. His hands kneaded her ass then grasped the back of her thighs and lifted her. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he backed her against the front door.
Maggie’s body reacted to Noah’s aggression with a rush of adrenaline. His urgent need for her was as arousing as his kisses. She eagerly nipped his lips and tongue as she lowered her hips to match his more squarely. The layers of clothing between them did nothing to reduce the exquisite feeling of his thick cock dry-rubbing her cunt. She tilted her hips back and forth, massaging his erection with her heat only to discover the delicious pleasure she was giving herself as her silk drawers tickled her clit.
He groaned into her mouth as though he felt her gush of wetness and increased the pace and pressure of his rub. It didn’t mat
ter that he wasn’t inside her or that a barrier separated their flesh. His mouth was devouring hers and his body had hers in a muscular cage. Her arousal rapidly built to an unstoppable crescendo of sensations.
Knock. Knock.
Noah slowed his pumping to keep from pounding the door from inside without stopping completely.
“Mr. Nash?” a man’s voice called from outside. “Message from Mr. Davenport.”
“Leave it,” Noah replied gruffly, continuing to rock his sex against hers.
There was a whispery sound as an envelope was shoved under the door and Noah drew her attention away from it with a firm upward thrust of his penis.
The next sound was the man clearing his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I’m instructed to wait for an answer.”
Noah growled but didn’t stop rubbing the damp silk against her pussy. “One minute.”
Maggie’s eyes opened wide and she whispered, “He can hear us.”
“Then stop talking,” he muttered back and recaptured her mouth.
In a heartbeat he was back to working her clit with his stiff cock so expertly she didn’t care if there was a man outside. She didn’t care if there was a crowd out there and the door was wide open. To her surprise, the awareness of an audience added heat to the fire already burning in her cunt.
In seconds Noah drove her right back to the peak she’d reached before the interruption then demanded she go the rest of the way. Her body seized control over her mind and there was no denying its need. She could not hold back her moan of release as he drove her over the edge then followed her with a low groan of his own.
Maggie’s thighs unclenched and her legs slid down his sides. When her feet touched the floor her limp body slipped out of his hold and eased down the door. A moment later he was sitting beside her, head back, breathing heavily. His hand fumbled for hers and she laced her fingers with his. Several more seconds passed before she could take a normal breath.
Then she remembered the man waiting outside and blood returned to her brain. She found the envelope beneath her butt and quickly opened it. The personal stationery inside bore the initials RD embossed in gold and contained one scrawled sentence.
ZenithRising Page 11
