Kiss of a Stranger (Lost Coast Harbor, Book 1)

by Lily Danes

  Whenever he glanced at her, all he could think of was their kiss. She’d responded so fast he’d practically felt heat fly through her, until she was nothing but fire in his arms. He’d lain awake a long time the night before, his body demanding a release he couldn’t provide. He kept replaying their kiss, and each time his dick snapped to attention. Her lips, her skin, the way she’d pressed herself against him—like she craved him. Like she longed to feel every inch of his body pressed against hers. It lit something inside him he thought was extinguished long ago. He’d forgotten what it was to be needed.

  Maddie wanted him. He was supposed to use that against her. Every day that passed was one more day Oliver Hastings got away with his crimes. One more day he needed to remain in Lost Coast instead of traveling north to see Mateo.

  One more day he didn’t need to face her look of betrayal if she ever learned why he was there.

  The mechanic had stopped by and examined every inch of equipment on the docks. The guy swore there was nothing wrong with the machines, but he took them apart and put them back together, just to be sure.

  Whatever happened two days ago, Gabe was starting to think it had actually been an accident. God knew it wouldn’t be the first one in his life. Besides, he only arrived in Lost Coast the night before. No one would know he was in town, let alone trying to get a job at Hastings Shipping.

  And if it wasn’t an accident, it was more likely Oliver had been the target than Gabe. The thought cheered him up immeasurably.

  He chucked Harold the keys to the forklift and checked his watch. “Almost there. You guys mind if I tag along tonight? I hear Fridays at Vista del Mar are standard for us lowly laborers.” He grabbed a huge crate and moved it with ease.

  Harold watched him and snorted. “See kid, you might as well announce you’re an outsider. Everyone knows it’s called VD by the Sea.” He waited to make sure Gabe got the joke, then guffawed at his own wit. “Most days, we’d be happy to have the new guy buy us drinks, but we’re skipping tonight. Wanna be fresh for the Hastings party.”

  Gabe’s head snapped up so fast he might need a chiropractor. “Party?”

  “No one told you? Hastings has this big to-do every year. Usually it’s for his clients and the more respectable people in town, but this year he decided to invite us reprobates. You got a suit?”

  Gabe’s laugh was incredulous. “Do I look like someone who owns a suit?”

  Harold scanned him, noting the stubble, scar, and tattoo peeking out of his right sleeve. The old-timer snorted. “About as much as I do, but I’ve got one from my wedding. Still kind of fit in it.”

  “Let’s try again. Do I look like someone who’s had a fancy wedding?”

  “You can borrow one of mine. We’re about the same size.”

  Gabe schooled his features, trying to hide his shock as he turned to face Oliver.

  The man was relaxed, smiling even. “It’s a party for you guys. You shouldn’t miss it because you don’t have something to wear. I’ll have someone bring it around your place. It won’t be a perfect fit, but it’ll do.”

  Gabe could only nod his thanks. He squinted at Oliver as he walked away, trying to figure out the man’s game. “Why would he do that?”

  “Oliver? He’s just like that. Never found a stray he didn’t try to help.” Harold gestured, impatient for Gabe to get back to the cargo.

  He’d been a stray. Barely getting by after juvie, working one job after another and never getting ahead. When he was finally ready to head north, he took whatever he could get to make it a few more miles in the right direction. Someone had seemed to take pity on Gabe and gave him a one-time trucking job that would pay enough to cover the rest of his trip, with enough remaining to start over.

  That man was no good. Gabe knew that firsthand. He just hadn’t expected Oliver to also seem so nice.

  The party was in full swing. He’d purposely delayed his arrival, because it was easier to go unnoticed in a crowd. Gabe still attracted plenty of curious glances, but no hostile ones. With his tattoos hidden by the suit and his hair growing out, he almost looked respectable. Maybe they were just trying to figure out how the new guy could afford Armani.

  He’d say this for Hastings. The man didn’t scrimp when it came to entertainment. The place glowed. Lights were strung across every surface, making the cold winter night glow. He’d flown in a jazz band from San Francisco and a caterer from the Napa Valley. This might be a party for the locals, but that didn’t mean a local was up to his standards.

  The townsfolk were transformed, all dolled up for the fanciest night of the year. Gabe caught a glimpse of a clean-shaven Harold and made a mental note to give him hell on Monday. Everyone wore shades of blue, from the deepest navy to the palest sea foam, in keeping with the Winter Blues theme. Oliver had even included a royal blue tie when he sent over the suit.

  “Hey, that fits great!” The man himself appeared next to him, his smile as open and guileless as ever. He examined the way the suit stretched across Gabe’s shoulders. “Except it makes me think I should work out more.”

  Gabe forced a smile. Oliver was already in annoyingly good shape. Otherwise, Gabe might have given into the impulse to punch him by now. “You throw a hell of a party.”

  Oliver’s brows shot up. “Me? Gods no. This is all my parents’ doing. My mom plans it and my dad makes sure the checks get signed. All I need to do is show up and pretend I’m not talking business all night.”

  “This is your parents’ house?” People on the docks talked about the Hastings mansion. Gabe had assumed it belonged to their boss, aka the Hastings CEO.

  “You think I have my own ballroom?” Oliver shook his head, laughing, and signaled to a passing server for two glasses of wine. Gabe waved his away.

  “We grew up here. Me, Jared, and Clare. I know it’s a bit much, but it’s home. My great-granddad built this house and the company. He passed them both to my granddad, who gave them to my father. One day, I expect they’ll be mine.”

  “Don’t you already have the company? That’s what it says on your business card.”

  The other man’s smile didn’t slip. “You haven’t met my father. My mother demanded he hand the company to me when he had a stroke eight years ago. He agreed, but I’m not sure he’s accepted it yet, no matter whose name is on the letterhead.”

  “Oh.” Gabe struggled to find words. If Hastings Sr. still clung to power, he might have been responsible for the guns.

  Or maybe Oliver was trying to point him in a different direction while the lying bastard figured out what to do with Gabe.

  His thoughts were interrupted when another man joined them. Though his hair was a lighter shade and his eyes were brown instead of green, it was obvious this was Jared Hastings. The brothers were the same height and they shared the same classic bone structure.

  “Another wonderful party,” he slurred, looking around the room with scorn. He barely acknowledged Gabe’s presence.

  Oliver eyed the man’s glass. “I hear it’s even more enjoyable if you drink champagne instead of double scotches all night long.”

  Jared grimaced. “It’s the only way to bear these sanctimonious old assholes, all telling me what an institution my father is and what a great job you’ve been doing.”

  “You could join me, you know. There’s room for another office in town. Let them talk about you next year.”

  His brother laughed. The sound grated. “That’s what it always comes back to, isn’t it? An office. A suit. Nothing else is good enough for a Hastings.” Jared threw back the last of his drink. “Let me know if you ever have a job that won’t turn me numb with boredom.”

  The man spotted another server and broke away without saying good-bye.

  “My brother,” Oliver said, gesturing at Jared’s retreating back. “We’re all so proud of him.”

  “He didn’t seem so bad,” Gabe lied. Jared Hastings acted like an entitled buffoon who complained because his silver spoon was a little bent.<
br />
  Oliver tipped his glass to him, acknowledging the polite deflection. “What can you do? He’s family.”

  Someone across the hall waved to Oliver. He excused himself, leaving Gabe alone with uncomfortable thoughts.

  Like the possibility Oliver wasn’t the only Hastings Gabe should be considering.

  It stung to think he’d been wrong for so many years. The man was the CEO of the damn company. In charge of everything that went in or out of Lost Coast. He had his perfectly manicured fingers in every part of the Hastings pie.

  He also acted like one of the nicest guys Gabe had ever met.

  Gabe had despised Oliver too long to believe him innocent, not without compelling proof. But Gabe needed to know what part Hastings Sr. played in the company—and he was standing in the middle of the guy’s house. It wouldn’t hurt to have a look around while he had the chance.

  Gabe worked his way around the perimeter of the dance floor. It was filling with people who’d had a drink or two and were feeling a bit loose. Soon, people wouldn’t notice if he crept away from the main ballroom.

  He grabbed something from a passing waiter. It was made of salmon and pastry, so small an entire platter would barely fill him up. He sneered at the tiny thing before popping it in his mouth.

  Gabe almost closed his eyes in bliss. He’d been raised with great cooking. His mother made sure of that. But it had been a long time since food brought him that kind of pleasure.

  Gabe scanned the room, searching for another waiter carrying food. If the other items were like this, he might have to reconsider his opinion of hors d’oeuvres. He spotted a telltale uniform across the room and strolled toward the server as casually as he could. She stood by the French doors that opened onto a large white deck. It wound its way around the house, a handy shortcut to the other rooms. After he grabbed a couple more bites of food, it would be easy to slip outside, and from there he could access the rest of the house.

  Ten feet from the waiter, he drew up short, staring.

  The office wardrobe had been left behind. She didn’t wear a single shade of brown or gray, no dull neutral clothes just a little too big for her body.

  No, that night she wore a dress that could only have been designed with her in mind. The flared skirt came to her knees, highlighting improbably long legs, and the strapless top revealed pale, creamy shoulders he needed to run his lips across. The whole thing was that impossible to define shade somewhere between blue and green. He’d say it matched her eyes, but that would be a lie. Maddie’s eyes held secrets and stories he yearned to know. The dress was just a pretty color.

  Forget the food. Now he was salivating.

  Even here, her hair was up, though this time it was carefully pinned into a complicated updo. Gabe still longed to draw the pins and watch Maddie’s hair flow loose around her shoulders, but he was happy to see it up that night. Declan didn’t get to see her hair down before he did, damn it.

  He tried to smile at her, ignoring the fact that he appeared to be losing his fucking mind.

  “You look nice,” he lied. She looked fucking incredible.

  “Thank you,” she said, far too calm.

  His designer suit wasn’t having the same effect on her that the dress was on him. If anything, she seemed more distant then ever, while he couldn’t stop remembering their kiss—and fighting the almost overwhelming urge to grab her in the middle of the party and do it again.

  “We haven’t met. I’m Declan.”

  Gabe wrenched his attention away from Maddie and glanced at the hand before him. He could find no valid reason not to shake it. He did so, a bit rough, letting the man feel his calluses.

  To his annoyance, Declan had a few of his own.

  “Were you heading outside?” Maddie asked.

  He glanced at the open doors, finding them less appealing than he had a moment ago. “Yeah. I don’t know a lot of people here. I didn’t want to be a wallflower.”

  “There are plenty of women you can dance with,” Maddie said. “I doubt you need to be alone.”

  Was she seriously trying to pawn him off on another woman? He was almost tempted to take her suggestion and see if that elicited any reaction.

  Instead, he offered a small smile. “I didn’t see any other women.”

  There. Color filled her cheeks, and he felt an almost primal satisfaction. She was no more immune to him than he was to her.

  “Go see the blonde standing by the band. Jared’s all over her. I’m sure she’ll welcome the save.” Maddie sounded almost angry. Because she wanted him to dance with other women—or because she didn’t?

  Gabe didn’t even turn his head. “Dance with me.”

  He didn’t look at Declan. He didn’t need some other guy’s permission. Gabe held out his hand, ignoring how exposed he felt. How much her answer mattered.

  “Go.” Declan downed his champagne and dropped the glass on a passing server’s tray. “I’ll make sure Annabel is okay.”

  Maddie gaped as her date walked away, and Gabe felt a small thrill. The catalog model wasn’t so perfect now, was he?

  “Dance with me,” he repeated.

  Maddie looked at his outstretched hand like it was a weapon, but with a grimace she took it.

  It wasn’t the most graceful acquiescence, but when her soft hand fit into his, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, he couldn’t think of any reason he’d ever release her.

  The Winter Blues Ball would never have something so common as a DJ or even a cover band. No, each year Peter Hastings arranged for a full band that could transition easily between big band ditties and slow, lounge-inspired numbers.

  When Gabe drew her onto the dance floor, one of the latter was just starting up. As the first strains of the new song reached Maddie’s ears, her stomach began to flutter, her skin already eager for the touch of his hand.

  She’d hoped a day or two apart would dull his effect on her, turn him into just another guy she could resist as easily as all the rest.

  A day? At this point, she wasn’t sure a year would be long enough.

  He didn’t rush. He didn’t come at her with the hunger of their kiss. Instead, Gabe rested a hand on her hip, curling it around her waist without the slightest hint of impropriety. His other hand wrapped around hers, his grip gentle.

  Hesitantly, Maddie dropped her fingers on his shoulder, though she put no weight into the touch.

  “Now that won’t do.” That was her only warning before he swung them around so fast she needed to dig her fingers into his suit jacket to remain standing.

  A laugh bubbled up, the same joy she’d felt as a child when she spun in circles. The sound caught her by surprise as much as his movement had.

  Gabe smiled at her. It wasn’t the small, close-mouthed one that made her melt. No, this was a big old grin that stretched all the way to his eyes. Just looking at that smile made her feel lighter.

  Before she could rebuild her defenses, Gabe drew her closer until her breasts brushed against his chest.

  “Much better,” he murmured against her hair.

  This was when her instincts should tell her to pull back. To maintain a safe distance. But the instincts that saved her two nights ago were silent tonight.

  Perhaps, after a night of tossing and turning, they recognized that resisting Gabe was more trouble than it was worth. Her body hadn’t even noticed when Declan kissed her, but it sprang to attention the moment Gabe rested his hand on her hip.

  She wasn’t a fool, and she could only pretend for so long. She wished she didn’t want Gabe, but she did—and want wasn’t a strong enough word. She craved him. Even now, as he moved against her, she grew wet. All it took was the heat of his body. His scent. The hot look in those dark eyes.

  “Are you staying in Lost Coast?” The words popped out, unplanned.

  This wasn’t a song that required a lot of movement. For the most part, people staked out their spot on the dance floor and swayed, but Gabe was steadily dancing them away from th
e center of the floor to a shadowed corner. She didn’t fight him.

  Gabe pulled back enough to look at her. “You worried I’m going to up and leave you?” His voice was teasing. His expression wasn’t.

  But she was asking exactly the opposite. She needed to be sure he planned to leave. A fling with a man who made her toes curl was one thing. She could commit to that, as much as one committed to something with a built-in end date.

  “Am I staying? No.” There was an edge to his voice she didn’t understand, but she was distracted when his fingers slid up her rib cage. He stopped well before he hit her breasts and worked his hand back down to her waist.

  “You’re on your best behavior tonight.”

  He raised one wicked eyebrow. “You seemed to like it well enough when I wasn’t. Until you decided to run away, that is.” He leaned forward so his mouth was at her ear, and his fingers dug into her hip. “That’s not happening this time.”

  His words and the warm breath against her ear sent shivers coursing through her. Her inner muscles clenched, a keen reminder of how empty she felt. How much she wanted Gabe to fill her.

  It was just sex. Sex with a really hot guy. Maybe she’d earned that. It wasn’t like she planned to marry him. She’d more than learned that particular lesson. But it had been so long, and her body had obviously decided enough was enough. It didn’t care if relief came in a criminal package, so long as she got some release.

  Bree and Erin were here somewhere, but they hadn’t seen her yet. If she acted quickly, she might escape before they had a chance to offer their opinions.

  Even if this was a terrible idea, Gabe just told her he wasn’t staying.

  Maddie moved closer to him and swayed with the music.

  Gabe drew her fully against him, so close she felt the hard length pressed against her hip. Her breath came in short pants and she rubbed herself against him, just a little, while his hands wrapped around her neck, toying with the short strands of hair that had come loose.

  “Have you changed your mind?” His voice held more gravel than usual.