Sensing her gaze, he turned his head and those intense gray eyes met hers for an instant. She ducked back into the safety of the kitchen and, despite her best efforts to stop it, her heart melted a little.
“How did he know I like sunflowers?” she demanded then gasped. “Miranda. Oh, that little sneak!”
Gail chuckled and gave her a gentle push toward the door. “Go say hi to the boy. He looks uncomfortable.”
Pru dug in her heels. “Oh, no. I can’t get involved with anyone.” Gail pushed harder. She braced her hands on the doorframe to keep from budging. “Gail, stop it! I have work to do. The orders are already backed up—”
“Miranda will be here in a few minutes to take orders and I can handle the kitchen. Take your half-hour.” Gail gave one last shove and almost sent Pru sprawling onto the floor at Alex’s feet. She caught herself on the edge of the counter and straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She was still wearing a hairnet.
God, could she look like any more of a fool?
With as much dignity as she could manage, she took it off and smoothed down her hair. She hoped her smile didn’t look as wobbly as it felt on her lips. “Back for more pie?”
“No.” He glanced over at the glass case displaying the freshly baked pies. His mouth turned up in one corner—not quite a real smile. “Well, maybe. Like I said, it’s an addiction of mine. I’ve gone to meetings and everything, but I can’t kick it.”
The laugh bubbled out of her in an unexpected rush, half from amusement and half from panic. “You have the oddest sense of humor, Boston.”
Just being this close to him again was doing strange things to her. She could picture it so clearly, him and her naked, straining together—
Oh, God. She slammed the mental brakes on that image. This was definitely a case of lust at first sight. Lust and nothing more. She drew a breath and slapped a muzzle on her overactive libido.
Just act normal.
Hah.
“I was going to take Triton, my dog, for a walk,” she blurted and reached behind the counter for the dog’s leash. She had to get outside. The diner was too warm and cramped all of a sudden, with too many curious eyes studying them.
“I’ll walk with you,” Alex said. “If you don’t mind.”
She did mind, but saying so would be rude and only partly true. He bothered her, but not in such a way that she disliked his company. Besides, it was only a walk.
“I’ll meet you out front.” She pushed through the kitchen door and ignored Gail’s smirk. Triton perked up from the sunny spot he’d found to lay down in and starting hopping like he had spring-loaded paws when he saw the leash. She unhooked his lead from his collar and snapped on the leash, then sucked in a calming breath and walked around the front of the diner. Triton pulled her to a halt as they neared Alex and watched the newcomer with wary chestnut eyes. Alex bent down the pet him and Triton let out a low grumble of warning.
“Huh. I don’t think your vicious pooch likes me much, Pru.”
“He’s not vicious. He’s just suspicious of strangers.” She bent down to give Triton a scratch behind one floppy ear to soothe him. “He can’t decide whether you’re a friend or not.”
“And what about you?” He motioned her down the sidewalk with one arm like a gentleman escorting a gowned lady to the dance floor. “Have you decided?”
“I don’t know you. I’m reserving judgment.”
“Would you like to get to know me?”
She stopped walking and gaped at him. “You didn’t just say that. That’s the oldest line in the book, pal.”
“I… guess I did.” And he looked completely flabbergasted by it. “Wow. Um, I’m usually better at—I didn’t mean that like—” He held up the sunflower. “Peace offering?”
His expression was so repentant that she couldn’t help but laugh. She accepted the flower. “You’re a Catholic.”
He blinked. “Uh, I’m sorry?”
“I can tell. You’ve perfected that sorry-I-sinned look.”
“Yeah, I am. Or was. Guess you’d call me non-practicing.”
“Bet your priests groaned whenever they saw you headed for the confessional.” He walked so close beside her she could smell him, a spicy male musk she liked, and feel the warmth emanating off his strong body. “Bet you sinned a lot.”
She realized, too late, how sexual that sounded and felt the blistering heat of embarrassment color her cheeks. She glanced away, but not before she caught the glint of wicked humor in his eyes.
“Every chance I got. I was a…spirited kid.”
She forced a light chuckle. “Hey, pal, it’s New England. We’re all spirited.” She paused to let Triton relieve himself on a lamppost and caught sight of the lighthouse tower from the corner of her eye. “Even our lighthouses. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Uh, what?”
“Ghosts.” She turned to face him. “Do you believe in them?”
His mouth opened then closed without making a sound. “You…baffle me, Pru. Do you always change subjects like that?”
Oh, great, she was babbling now. “Like what?”
“Like you—” He studied her for a second with his intense eyes as if trying to figure out an intricate puzzle, then shook his head. “Never mind.” He stuck his hands in his coat pockets and gazed up at the lighthouse. A breeze rolled off the ocean and ruffled his hair, which looked to have been only finger-combed this morning. She watched a shadow fall across his face like a veil.
“Ghosts, huh? No, I don’t believe in any of that paranormal shit. Ghosts, psychics, curses, demons—it’s all crazy.”
“Hm.” She continued down the sidewalk with Triton sniffing every tree and sign along the way. Alex fell into step, watching her twirl the sunflower between her fingers.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes.” She angled her head to look at him. “How did you know they’re my favorite? Usually a guy goes for roses when he’s trying to impress a woman.”
He moved his shoulders as if an uncomfortable weight had settled there. She liked riling him, she decided. He looked cute when he was flustered and it gave her a sense of power to do so. He struck her as a man who didn’t fluster easily. Also struck her as a man who did not usually give flowers to women.
“I didn’t know,” he admitted. “I saw that beside the road on my way into town. It reminded me of you.”
“Little late in the year for wild sunflowers.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “Gardening isn’t my area of expertise.”
“No? Then what is?”
“I’m, uh…” He was flustered again, his gaze sliding away from hers as his words trailed off. He looked up at the lighthouse tower and she got the feeling he was searching for something, anything to say to change the subject. The man obviously didn’t like to talk about himself, so she decided to take pity on him. For now.
She motioned to the lighthouse. “It isn’t ready to open to the public yet—I still have a lot of work to do on it—but if you’d like, I can give you a tour.”
“Wait.” He stopped walking and stared at the lighthouse, then at her. “You own that?”
“I live there. I’m in the process of renovating it, turning it into a bed and breakfast.” Since he stopped moving, she did too. She set down the sunflower and hoisted herself to sit on the wide ledge of one of the now-empty concrete planters lining the street. The stone was hard and cold on her legs and it fortified her.
Triton hopped along the sidewalk, chasing fallen leaves until his leash ran out, and then gazed back with the expression she thought of as his puppy frown. To atone, she dug a dog biscuit out of her apron and tossed it to him.
Alex sat beside her, close enough to make Triton forget his treat and move protectively between them.
“I got the impression you own the diner,” Alex said, paying no attention to the dog’s low growl as he laid his hand over hers on the cool stone. His hand was large and, except for a
strange callus on his pointer finger, surprisingly smooth. As their skin touched, a little thrill raced straight from her hand to her muzzled libido—it hissed, snarled, and demanded release. Oh, how she wanted to let it loose, to turn her hand into his and link their fingers. Instead, she shifted away on the pretense of tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“The diner’s my grandma’s baby.” She tried to keep her voice light. “That’s why it’s called Mae’s, after her. She’s semi-retired, which basically means I run it when she’s off on one of her many adventures. She’s in Africa right now. But the lighthouse…” She picked up the sunflower, twirled it between her fingers again. “Much to Grandma’s dismay, it’s always intrigued me. The ghost stories alone—”
“C’mon. Ghost stories?”
“Oh, yes. It’s said lighthouses are America’s version of castles. Each has its own ghost, and mine is no exception.”
Alex made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. According to legend, the ghost’s name is Adeline Barnett True, better known as Lovie,” she said, settling into the telling of a story she’d known since childhood. “She’s also called The Green Lady because she’s always seen wearing a green flapper-style dress. She came to town after her husband, a soldier in World War One, inherited the lighthouse from his father. Some of the rumors say her husband took up drinking after the war and beat her to death. Others say she was a city girl at heart, the isolation got to be too much, and she took her life by jumping off the tower. Either way, she died in 1925, but she still roams through the lighthouse and she’s still bitter about whatever happened to her. She doesn’t like men in her territory. She gets blamed for a lot of the accidents that happen around here.”
“And you’ve…seen…her?” Alex asked.
“I’ve heard her. She bangs around the kitchen, walks up and down the stairs, and sometimes I even smell whatever she’s cooking. Pork, usually.” At his dubious expression, she laughed. “Now you think I’m crazy. It’s all true. She was a real person. I have her picture hanging in my stairwell. Her grave’s at the cemetery.”
“No, not crazy.” He shrugged. “I know a lot of people believe in that sort of thing. I’m just not one of them.”
“Stay one night in the lighthouse and I bet you’ll change your mind.” She realized, again too late, how much that sounded like an invitation and cursed her carelessness. The way he was watching her, like she was the most interesting and beautiful woman in the world, made her stomach jitter. Whether it was nerves or lust, she didn’t know. Probably a combination of both.
He reached for her hand again, gave it a light squeeze. “I’d like that, Pru.”
“I didn’t mean it as an invitation.”
“Not yet,” he said with a slow, devilish smile.
She tried to pry her hand free, but he held it for just a moment more before letting her go. She worked up a scowl. “You’re pretty damn sure of yourself there, buddy.”
“No, I’m realistic.” He ran his fingers along her jaw—it was as if he couldn’t stop touching her—and smiled when she stiffened. “Have dinner with me, Pru.”
“I thought you were leaving town.”
“I’m in no hurry. Especially if someone convinces me to stick around.”
She glanced away. “I can’t.”
“Why not? I don’t see a ring on your hand.”
She looked down at her empty finger and felt a twinge in her chest. It still hurt, she realized. Even after six months, it still hurt that Owen’s ring was not there anymore. She curled her hand into a fist and jumped down from the ledge. She paced away from Alex. Then, feeling like a coward for avoiding his gaze, she circled back to face him.
“Listen, I just got out of a bad relationship.”
“Me too. Besides, who said anything about a relationship? I enjoy your company and I don’t know anyone else in town. I just want to have dinner with you.”
And sex, she thought. She shook her head. “We both know where dinner would lead.”
He opened his mouth, she assumed to protest, but he surprised her by not denying it. His mouth closed again and he rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, probably. Would that be so bad?”
“Yes.” Pru sighed when he scowled. She’d hurt his fragile male ego, but she didn’t have time to nurse the pieces back together. Her half hour was almost up.
“I have to go back to work.” She handed him the sunflower. “Please, just stay away before something happens that I’ll regret.”
It was probably better this way, she decided as he stared after her with a mixed expression of aggravation and bewilderment. At least he wouldn’t be popping into the diner for a visit again.
She hoped.
***
That was a first.
Alex rubbed his unshaved jaw, feeling almost as if she’d slapped him. How did he manage to completely fubar everything he said to her? Usually the pickup was the easy part for him. Knowing what the hell to do with a woman once he’d had her was the part he sucked at.
He looked at the sunflower. Its perky petals beamed back, bright as Pru’s smile. Frowning, he tossed it aside.
Forget her.
Why was he even chasing after a skirt right now anyway? He had bigger things to worry about than getting laid.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started down the street to his car. He didn’t need this sort of aggravation in his life now and he certainly didn’t need her—but, Christ, who was he kidding? Need and want were two entirely different concepts and he wanted her.
Bad.
He hadn’t been able to stop touching her. Like an addict needing a constant fix.
Desire thrummed in his blood and he only had to close his eyes to see it, the two of them coming together, hot and panting and desperate to be flesh to flesh.
He stopped walking and growled as the fantasy thickened in his groin. Need and want were two different things, and in this case want won. He had never before felt this pull—no, it was more violent than that, he decided, like a yank—toward a woman. It was such a strange sensation that he refused to leave Maine without exploring the possibilities of it first. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go now that he was jobless.
Alex snatched up the sunflower from the spot it had landed on the sidewalk and stalked toward the diner. Pru stood behind the counter, cashing out a customer at the register. He tapped on the window to get her attention and saw a becoming flush fill her cheeks as everyone turned to watch. He held her gaze as he threaded the sunflower through the door handle.
“I’m not leaving,” he said loud enough that she’d hear through the glass. Then he turned, nodded to Mrs. Mallory, who stood on the sidewalk behind him, and walked to his car.
***
Pru made sure she was busy with an order when Helen marched up to the counter with the sunflower in hand. Of all the people that had to be present for that spectacle, why did it have to be the mayor’s nosy wife? How mortifying.
“What was that all about?” Helen demanded.
“Nothing.” Pru snatched a coffee pot from the warmer and refilled the line of empty and nearly empty cups at the counter.
Miranda, carrying a load of dirty dishes to the kitchen, snorted as she passed. “Nothing? Yeah, and my tush is flat. That city boy has his pretty gray eyes on our Pru.”
“Does he?” Helen twirled the flower once and pursed her red-painted lips. “How unfortunate for you, dear. Beauty is such a curse.” With a flick of the wrist, the sunflower sailed into the wastebasket beside the counter.
Pru stopped herself—barely—from retrieving it. Did she want to look like she was completely gone over Alex? Because she wasn’t. She didn’t even know him. Instead, she picked up the plate of fried clams waiting in the order window.
Helen gave a dainty, disapproving sniff. “I hope you know, dear, a tryst with a man like that will only end badly.”
She
knew, which was why she’d tried her hardest to tell him off. The man was obstinate, frustrating, and…dammit, oddly sweet. She shot a glance toward the discarded sunflower, wishing she didn’t want to pick it up.
Miranda pushed through the kitchen door and moved to toss a paper towel in the trash. A large fist squeezed Pru’s heart in protest and a distressed noise slipped out. Miranda sent her a knowing smile and shoved the towel into her apron pocket. Helen tsked.
Miranda scowled at the mayor’s wife. “Is there something you need, Mrs. Mallory?”
“I’m looking for my son.” Her gaze landed on Kevin, still brooding in the corner booth. Without another word, she marched over. Kevin sank lower in his seat like a chastised teenager.
“Good riddance,” Miranda said. “I pity Kev, though.” She shook her head once, then gave Pru a gentle nudge in the ribs with her elbow and took the plate of fried clams. “I got this, hon, but I think the garbage needs emptying.”
“Oh, sure. I’ll do it.” Feeling silly, but unable to stop herself, Pru scooped up the trashcan and hurried through the kitchen. Out back, she plucked the flower from the nearly empty can and cast the rest into the dumpster. Triton, lying in his customary sunny spot, thumped his tail twice.
“I know, boy.” She sighed and straightened one of the flower’s crinkled petals. “I’m a sentimental fool.”
CHAPTER 5
When Pru pulled into her driveway that evening, three men—John Putnam Jr., Wade Putnam, and David Faraday—stood in her backyard beside a black, Ford truck, studying a large stump that lay on its side next to an even larger hole in the ground. The stump’s tangled roots clawed at the sky like skeletal hands digging out of a grave. It would be a suitable Halloween decoration, she mused, if she actually got trick-or-treaters. But if the myths surrounding the lighthouse weren’t enough to keep them away, then the drive up the steep, winding driveway was. She wasn’t even going to bother buying candy this year. She’d be the one who wound up eating it, and a bag of Reese’s, yummy as they were, would not help the size of her ass.
Vision of Darkness (D.I.E. Squadron Book 1) Page 4
