The Secret Thief

by Nina Lane

  “A woman named Maria Wood, though that’s likely a pseudonym. It’s been tough finding any information on her.”

  “I’ll ask Mother, if you’d like. Even though we don’t have the art anymore, she might remember if she once owned anything by Maria Wood.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” I take my keys out of my purse. “Sorry again for intruding.”

  “No problem.” He takes out his phone and glances at the screen. “Hey, can I buy you a quick dinner? I’m heading down to New York for the week later tonight, but I’m free for an hour or so.”

  Oh, dear.

  I don’t know how to respond. As attracted as I am to Flynn, I’m under no illusions that our strange relationship can or will ever be anything more. And if I do want to start dating again, Jeremy is a good choice—stable, smart, nice.

  So why am I hesitating?

  “I’m sorry, but I have some work to do.” I offer him an apologetic smile.

  “Just for an hour or so?” He swipes the screen of his phone. “There’s a Mediterranean grill downtown that’s usually pretty fast. I can meet you there in about half an hour. I’ll grab my stuff first and see if I can ask my mother about the artist.”

  Though I dislike the hint of manipulation—if I say yes, he might give me more information about Maria Wood—I agree. It’s not exactly a date, and he’s going out of town, so I’ll have time to figure out how to navigate this over the week.

  After checking the address on my phone, I drive to the restaurant and request a table for two. Jeremy arrives a few minutes later.

  “Sorry, but my mother had gone for a nap, so I didn’t have a chance to ask her about the artist,” he says, unfolding the cloth napkin. “But I’ll talk to her as soon as I can.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  We turn our attention to the menus, and have a pleasant dinner of spicy grilled chicken and hummus.

  “Why are you going to New York?” I ask.

  “Dad’s sending me down there to close a deal.” He gives a rueful chuckle. “Actually I twisted his arm until he finally agreed to let me go. I’m thirty-one years old, and I still have to prove to him I can handle a business negotiation.”

  I smile with sympathy. “I get it, believe me. My mother is a neurosurgeon. She’s always cast a very brilliant, blinding light.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” Jeremy smiles back, holding my gaze. “You cast a pretty amazing light yourself.”

  Unease creeps through me. Before I can respond, a woman’s voice calls my name.

  I glance up as Carol from the Jabberwocky Bookstore approaches. “Hi, Carol.”

  “Good to see you.” She stops, her gaze shifting from me to Jeremy and back again. “You too, Jeremy. How’s your mother?”

  “She’s doing a little better, thanks.”

  “Your father’s speech at the last council meeting was quite persuasive.” She shakes her head with a laugh. “He hasn’t lost his public speaking skills one iota.”

  “I’ll tell him you said that.”

  “And Eve, did you find a job?” Carol turns to me, curiosity appearing in her eyes. “My husband Ned has seen you jogging up at the lighthouse pretty often. He goes there to walk our dog.”

  “Yes, the trail is lovely.”

  “Did you ever inquire at the museum about work?”

  Uncomfortable heat flushes my neck. “I did. I’m just doing some private consulting at the moment.”

  Jeremy glances at his watch. “I’m sorry, Carol, but I explained to Eve I need to get to the airport tonight. Say hello to Ned for me, will you?”

  “Of course.” Carol eyes us one more time with interest, then strides away.

  After paying the bill, Jeremy walks me to my car.

  “Thanks for coming with me.” Warmth flickers in his eyes. “I was hoping to see you before I leave.”

  “Thanks for the dinner.” I search for my keys in my purse. “Have a safe trip.”

  I start to get into the car.

  “Eve?”

  I stop and turn to face him. His eyebrows are pulled together. He looks as if he’s trying to figure out what to say.

  “Not that it’s my business.” He rubs the back of his neck. “But Carol’s not the first person who’s mentioned they’ve seen you up at the lighthouse.”

  My spine tenses. “A lot of people use the trail.”

  “Yeah, uh…” He gives me an abashed smile. “Didn’t mean to imply anything, but considering the time you’ve had of it, I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Have a nice trip,” I say in a tight voice, then climb into my car before he can respond.

  No, I think as I drive away from him. I really didn’t want to know that at all.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The kitchen sink at Ramshackle Manor is of the compression variety, I’ve learned. It also leaks like Niagara Falls, so I work for several hours on Sunday changing the washers. After that, I tighten several loose door handles, oil squeaky hinges, clean the stove exhaust filter, and install smoke and carbon monoxide detectors. It is immensely satisfying to cross each item off my To Do list.

  I feed Ghost, then toss a stick to see if he’ll fetch it. He does, though he doesn’t bound back to drop it at my feet, and I’m not about to try and coax it out of his clenched teeth. But he lets me scratch his ears again. I reward him with a beef bone I picked up at the pet store.

  For the rest of the evening, I plan the tea tasting I promised Flynn. I make a list of the teas I want to include and consider a visit to an out-of-town tea shop after work tomorrow.

  It’s not lost on me that Ghost and Flynn are alike. Their guardedness conceals something softer and even a bit tender. I’ve tamed Ghost with food, and maybe—just maybe—I’m also disarming Flynn with a properly brewed cup of tea. Why that’s important to me is a question I’m not willing to examine too deeply.

  I assure myself it’s okay to enjoy being attracted to the lighthouse keeper. Though he’s technically been my boss for three weeks, I’m not breaking any rules. It’s kind of like having a crush on a movie star—he inspires all sorts of fantasies and dreams, but intellectually I know nothing will ever come of it.

  But, oh how he makes me feel.

  When he opens the workroom door on Monday morning, my whole body zings with excitement and anticipation. Despite his dark frown, the remoteness surrounding him like an aura, the clipped tone of his voice, I react to him as if he were stroking my hair and whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

  “How was your weekend?” I set my satchel on the desk.

  “Fine. Yours?”

  “Great.” I give him a once-over, looking for evidence of what he’s been up to, but while he looks edible in his worn jeans and T-shirt, like a warm, rumpled bed I could nestle right into, his demeanor is as impassive as ever.

  Does he ever smile? Every now and then I’ve caught a glimpse of amusement, a twitch of his mouth, but I’ve yet to see him fully smile.

  “Any special instructions for today?” I turn on the computer and open my organizer.

  “Stay away from Jeremy King.”

  Shock bolts down my spine. I jerk my head up to stare at him. He’s watching me with a narrowed gaze, his mouth set in a stern line.

  “Um… what?” I can’t get another word out.

  “Stay away from him,” Flynn repeats coldly. “He’s not good for you.”

  Irritation breaks past my shock. “How would you know who is or isn’t good for me? It’s been an effort to get you to say anything to me the whole time I’ve been working here.”

  “I don’t need to say anything to know the facts.” His tone hardens. “I don’t want you around him.”

  “You have no right to tell me that,” I retort. “How did you know I went on a date with him anyway?”

  His jaw tightens. “You think people around here don’t notice when their favorite son has dinner with the new girl in town?”

  Christ. I experience a
sudden longing for the cold anonymity of a big city.

  “I know people are talking about me.” I scowl at him. “But I refuse to let gossip dictate what I can and can’t do. And for your information, Jeremy knows about what happened to me, and it doesn’t seem to bother him.”

  “That’s not the point. You can’t work for me and see him.”

  My shoulders tense. I focus on the computer, hitting the key to bring up the database software.

  “My date with Jeremy has nothing to do with my work here,” I reply stiffly. “I didn’t, and won’t, tell him anything about the job or the fact that you’re my employer. You don’t need to worry about breach of contract.”

  “This isn’t about the damned contract.” His voice is suddenly sharp.

  He steps closer to me, his soapy, warm scent filling my nose. I hold my ground, not wanting him to see me weaken even though I’m melting inside at his nearness. Impassive though he is on the exterior, I can sense the energy coursing through him, his heavy strong heartbeat, the rush of his blood.

  “How many times have you gone out with him?” He clenches and unclenches his hands.

  “Once! Well, twice, but the second time was just a quickie… er, I mean a quick dinner.”

  God. I’m so flustered my whole body is hot.

  “I don’t want you around him at all,” he repeats.

  “Does your animosity have something to do with him wanting to sell the lighthouse?”

  “I’m not answering questions.” His gray eyes turn the color of metal. “I’m telling you to stay away from him.”

  My pulse races. “You don’t have that right.”

  “I’m your boss.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can make that demand.” The words snap out of my mouth without thought. “And if you think you can threaten to fire me over this, then step back, mister, because I’ve been through the worst wrongful termination I can imagine. And even though my employer fucking won that battle, I still have plenty of fight left in me. I’ll put on my gloves and get in the ring with you, if I have to.”

  Wow. Go, Eve.

  I’m breathing fast, and my knees are quaking from my sudden fear he’ll make me prove my bold statement. The air between us sparks with electricity. I force myself to stand firm, to look directly at him and—

  Admiration flashes in his eyes, like a silver comet streaking across the sky. His stern expression doesn’t change, but that brief glimpse of warmth eases the tension knotting my shoulders.

  “I’m not going to fire you.” His voice is measured and controlled. “But I will not have you seeing King.”

  “You don’t like him, so that means I have to stay away from him?” I shake my head. “Sorry, no. He’s one of the few people in this town who has been nice to me, and I enjoyed our date. I refuse to discount the possibility of Jeremy being my first real friend here.”

  Flynn clenches his jaw. “He wants to be more than your friend.”

  “I know.” I put my hands on my hips and look him in the eye. “He even kissed me.”

  Anger crashes over his features. A vein throbs in his forehead. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was jealous.

  But I do know better. He’s mad because I’m refusing to do something he wants me to do. Despite, or maybe because of, his isolated lifestyle, Flynn is clearly a man accustomed to getting what he wants.

  “He kissed you.” The words grind out of his mouth like broken glass.

  “Yes. And I kissed him back. Like our date, it was nice. Nice hasn’t been the norm in my life lately.”

  “I could kiss you,” Flynn retorts, his hands fisting. “But it wouldn’t be nice.”

  “Oh yeah?” My heart kicks into gear, blood rushing through my veins. “What would it be, then?”

  His gaze settles on my mouth. “Hot.”

  “Prove it.” The dare flies out of me, my brain failing to process the potential repercussions.

  Before I can take another breath, he grabs my shoulders and pulls me against him. I freeze, stunned by the reality of a moment I’d imagined more times than I can count—the sensation of his body against mine. And God, he feels exactly the way I’d imagined, a solid wall of heat and muscle pulsing with life. Rock-hard arms that could wrap around me so tightly nothing would get past them.

  He stares down at me, his steel eyes glinting with intent like iron striking stone. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.

  Then he crashes his mouth down on mine, an onslaught, a possession, a claiming. Hunger bursts through me, a desire so sharp and intense it destroys all my defenses in one fell swoop.

  I moan, everything inside me weakening and aching for more. He slides a hand to my lower back, fitting our bodies together. I yield all the way to my bones, my curves softening against him, any thought of resistance dissolving in a haze of disbelief and craving.

  I part my lips tentatively, let him inside. My head spins with the taste of him, something decadent and forbidden. Our tongues touch, breath mingling. Arousal floods me, swift and hard, as if all the fantasies in which I’ve indulged have primed me for this moment.

  I bring my hands to his face, his stubble coarse against my palms, slide them down to the sides of his neck where his pulse throbs heavily. He’s like the sea—mysterious, unpredictable, powerful. I could get lost in him, drown, let him sweep me away to a distant land where no one knows who I am and what I’ve done.

  Time falls away. He grips my shoulders, pushing me up against the wall, our lips still clinging together. My blood sizzles. He plants his hands on either side of me, trapping me in the cage of his arms. I drag my hands over his chest, captivated by the sensation of his hard muscles through his T-shirt.

  Emboldened by his intake of breath, I slip one hand under his shirt. Delight floods me. His abdomen is a ladder of tight ridges and warm, taut skin. I stroke upward, more eager than ever to feel his powerful chest against my naked breasts.

  He mutters a curse, low and sharp. Trailing his lips to my neck, he cups my breast, his thumb rubbing my stiff nipple. Heat shoots to my core. He shoves his hips against me, pushing my legs apart with one knee.

  He’s hard. So fucking hard already… his erection pushes against the front of his jeans, prodding my thigh. A gasp catches in my throat. My pussy dampens in response, in readiness. He takes my mouth again, open and hot.

  Dizziness washes over me. He could lift my skirt, pull down my panties, and plunge his cock into me right here, right now, finally giving me what I’ve craved since the day we met. Only he can fill the aching emptiness inside me, ease my desperate longing to be wanted for the right reasons, to be desired and lo—

  He lifts his head, breaking our kiss and stepping away from me at the same time. Heavy breaths saw from his chest. A flush burns his skin.

  I bring a shaking hand to my mouth, suddenly unsure if the kiss just happened or if I’m like Alice in Wonderland, spinning downward, lost in my intricate imagination.

  “That…” I drag in a breath, trying to grab on to my whirling thoughts. “That was both hot and nice.”

  He clenches his hands on my shoulders. His eyes darken to black.

  “Get this straight, Eve.” His voice is low and rough, his gaze pinning me down. “I’m not nice. I don’t do things to be nice. I don’t get involved. Ever. But I will be fucking damned if I let you start seeing that bastard King. Stay away from him.”

  He releases me and stalks across the room. A second later, the cottage door slams shut.

  I grab the back of a chair to steady myself. My legs tremble as I stare at the closed door. A flame suddenly shoots to life inside me.

  I yank open the door and follow him into the kitchen. He’s standing at the window, his shoulders stiff and hands shoved into his pockets.

  “Don’t you fucking dare tell me that.” I stalk toward him.

  He tenses, control collecting around him like a perfectly tailored suit.

  “Kissing you was wrong.” His tone is measured. “I sh
ouldn’t have done it. I apologize.”

  A sharp ache pushes at my chest. I turn away, blinking against an unexpected sting of tears.

  Wrong.

  A kiss that flooded me with light and promise. A kiss that reminded me in no uncertain terms that desire feels so damned good. A kiss I’ve been wanting, imagining, dreaming about… wrong.

  Will anything I feel ever be right again?

  “It wasn’t wrong,” I mumble.

  “What?”

  “I said…” I turn to look him in the eye. “It wasn’t wrong. You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me? The way you stand too close and smell my hair? The way you can’t stay away from the kitchen at two every afternoon because you know I’ll be here? I’m not stupid, much as I’ve told myself otherwise recently. You don’t want to spend time with me just because my Indian Darjeeling is so tasty.”

  Resistance laces his body, his eyes hardening to iron. “I meant what I said about King. I also meant what I said about me.”

  “Right. If you didn’t get involved, you’d never have followed me out of the museum and offered me a job. You sure as hell wouldn’t care who I date.”

  His breath expels in a heavy rush. “Your association with Jeremy King could compromise your job here. It would be a breach of contract.”

  “Bullshit,” I retort. “There is nothing in your stupid contract about who I can or can’t associate with. And I’ve had enough people trying to order me around and control my life. I will not let you be one of them.”

  I whirl around and stride out of the kitchen. For once, it feels damned good to be the one shutting the door firmly behind me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  With great force of will, I manage not to relive the kiss for the rest of the morning as I open boxes and analyze book data.

  My body remembers, though. My nipples tingle, and my pussy is slick, my labia rubbing together with every step. When I’m seated at the desk, I squeeze my thighs together to try and ease the lingering ache in my clit, suppressing the temptation to slide my skirt up and reach between my legs. It would take no effort at all—just a little tickle on the outside of my panties, and I’d come.