A tremor rippled through Alec’s body, like the rumble of an old hot rod.
I couldn’t believe Vincent’s tone, that he was still standing there under the pressure of Alec’s rage. Part of me was impressed. I didn’t look at Vincent, for fear of seeing that same glare I’d seen a few nights ago. I stroked Alec’s hair with my fingers in an effort to help calm him.
The edge in Alec’s voice lessened. “Wait in my office.”
I heard Vincent walk away, and Alec spoke in my ear. “I’m sorry. I have to deal with something for a few minutes.”
I relaxed my arms and looked up at him. “I understand.”
“I’ll be right back.” He walked away.
A few seconds later, a door closed.
I put the dishes away and wiped the counter, but that was it. I didn’t want Alec to come back to find me scrubbing, though that was what I felt like doing—working through my discomfort. I walked out the second kitchen doorway, then across the great room to the French doors, staying as far from Alec’s office as possible, so I didn’t overhear anything…and someplace deep inside I was scared I would hear something about me.
The rain made the sky fuzzy, like it was a wedding veil falling over the cliffs. It wasn’t a serene wedding, though. The wind ruffled the veil and spun the clouds. It ripped at the trees and pulled leaves away to spiral in the air.
The wind whirled against the brick of the house and rifled the trees. The waves slapped against the shore, like that whack when I used to jump in a puddle with both feet when I was little. I could almost hear my parents’ laughter.
A door opened, and then footsteps.
I glanced back to see as Alec led Vincent out from the hall. Alec stopped near the base of the stairs and spoke in a cold voice. “I expect your assignment will consume the rest of your day.”
Vincent’s tone, however, had changed dramatically, from level with determination to concern. “Just be careful, Alec.”
Alec spoke through his teeth. “I’m fine.”
“But if—”
“Go.”
I turned away. Of course that was what was wrong, why Vincent was so angry with me. Alec hadn’t been careful; he’d gone to Joe Bishop. Because of me. I doubted he knew about the injury, though. I doubted anyone else knew about that.
Vincent’s footsteps sounded, and then the front door closed.
Alec paused. I figured he had to leave soon, too.
He walked over to stand next to me. I kept my gaze on the churning of the storm. It was just getting started.
“I love the rain,” he murmured.
“My father used to call me ‘Rain’.”
I glanced over to see him looking at me curiously. I hadn’t thought it was that interesting a comment.
“When I was little,” I said, “we used to play in the rain. He said I was pretty when I danced in it.” My gaze returned to the downpour. “He said I looked like my mother.”
“I’m so sorry, Adriane.”
His tone took me off guard. It was more than just a polite gesture of understanding. I forced a little smile. “I’m fine.”
He met my gaze for a few seconds, and then looked out to the rain. He seemed far away, as if he was out there, in the storm.
I squeezed his hand to bring him back to me.
“Are you all right here?” he asked. “I know you miss your home. Is there anything else?”
My smile was more genuine. I shook my head.
“Your work?”
“No,” I said. “I liked working with numbers, but I didn’t get to do that as much as I wanted. Maybe I’ll find something better once this is over.”
He looked out the window to the storm.
“Do you have to leave soon?” I asked.
He hesitated, and then turned back to me. “No.”
I tilted my head in confusion. It was already later than I’d ever seen him leave.
“Would you mind,” he asked, “if I kept you company today?”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be fine by myself.”
“I need a day off.”
“You do. I’ve never seen anyone work like you.”
“I’m not always at work.”
Right. He spent the rest of his time getting into dangerous situations, and I knew I couldn’t stop him.
His voice lightened, like he was trying to cheer me up. “What would you like to do today?”
“It’s your day off. You get to choose.”
“Uh,” he said—it was kind of refreshing to see he didn’t always have the answer. “Well, I suppose I haven’t been swimming in quite a while.”
I raised my eyebrows. The wind whistled at the same time.
“You’ve never seen the pool, have you?”
I shook my head.
“There should be some bathing suits in your dresser.” The corner of his mouth twitched like a snake’s tail.
It took all my courage, but I managed to wear a bathing suit in front of him. In the big, glass-enclosed swimming pool, we played and laughed and splashed each other. I’d never seen him so lighthearted.
“It has to be past noon,” he said sometime later. “Hanna will have my head if I don’t make you eat.”
She was playing both sides. I almost felt betrayed.
I touched his shoulder, the now purple skin. “We should ice this again, anyway.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Our clothes folded over my arm and my towel fastened into place at my chest, we trekked back through the house to the kitchen. He pulled his towel taut around his waist as we walked.
Once in the kitchen, he folded his towel over a chair and pulled on his jeans. I decided I was dry enough and took the opportunity to grab my clothes. I looked up to see him staring. His head was tilted, and his gaze traveled slowly lower...my chest, my waist, my hips.
I turned away and kept dressing. His voice rang through my head. I’m not attracted to her. My hands shook as I pulled my shirt on over my head.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
I tugged my shirt into place, still turned away. Then I moved toward the cabinet.
He caught my hand. “You don’t know, do you?”
“I’m just getting a bag for the ice.” I shifted to walk away, but he held on to my hand, that same gentle hold like the first day we met.
He pulled me closer. I didn’t fight him. I knew if I did he would let go, but I didn’t want him to let go.
His fingertips brushed down the side of my face, as if I were breakable, delicate, like butterfly wings. “My God,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”
I looked away and tried to block the words. I’m not attracted to her.
“Adriane.”
I forced a smile. “I just need a bag, and I’ll ice your shoulder.” I pulled a little at my hand, and he let go.
From the cabinet, I took a plastic bag, and then I opened the freezer door.
“Don’t you see them?” he asked. “Men stare at you. They stumble over each other to hold the door for you. I thought it was just your shyness, but you honestly don’t know.” He paused. “That explains much.”
I filled the bag with ice, one cube at a time.
“They’re always watching you,” he said, “when you go to the newsstand at lunch, when you go to that little diner for supper. It’s the worst when you wear that black skirt.”
The cold from the ice shivered up my arm. I kept filling the bag.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
My hand paused. “Please, Alec.”
Quiet.
Then his low voice. “I’m sorry.”
I stood there in front of the open freezer door, staring at the cubes of ice.
He pulled something from one of the drawers and then came over to me. He took the bag of ice from my hands and wrapped it in a clean dish towel. Then he lifted my hand and set the cool bundle into it. “Will you help me?”
I nodded.
With his hands at my waist, he lifted me to set me on the counter. He stood in front of me, a hand on my leg. “Thank you, Adriane.”
Then he moved his hand.
I smiled a little. “I like it when you touch me.”
He met my gaze, reading me again. Then his hand rested on my thigh near my knee.
I examined his shoulder, the receding edges of the bruise, closely with my fingertips. The black had turned purple. The green was starting to disappear, and the brown was turning green. “It already looks better.”
“I heal quickly.”
“You didn’t go to the doctor,” I said, “did you?”
“Nothing was broken.”
How could he be so sure nothing more was wrong? I wished he would let Hanna look at it. Then I wondered something. Hanna had spent the last twenty-five years here, raising Alec, and she told me about when she used to volunteer at the hospital, about how she only ever helped in maternity and women’s medicine. How did she know how to handle injuries so well, so calmly? Maybe…
He lightly touched my hair, which was now mostly dry. “Always so much in that head of yours.”
I realized my expression must be far away and refocused on him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Have you ever done something like this before? Protecting people?”
“We do occasionally learn of someone who needs help, but we usually inform the police and give them whatever information we may have. I have a friend in one of the precincts.”
“Have you ever brought anyone here before?”
He paused, as if taking time to catalog facts, consequences, and truth into a file in his head. “No.” Then he continued, “I hope you’re hungr—”
“Why did you this time?”
He paused again, longer. “They were too close. There was no time.” He touched my cheek. “I won’t let anyone harm you.”
My gut told me there was something more, but I knew if I pushed him, he’d just shut down, and probably block me out like he did everyone else. “Please be careful. Don’t get hurt again.”
“You should eat. I think that diner of yours delivers.”
I took a breath. “You know Hanna’s playing both sides.”
His voice was lighter. “I know.”
He took his phone from his pocket and dialed.
“Would you mind doing a favor?” he asked whomever it was. Then he told them of the diner and what to order.
“Delivers, huh?” I said when he hung up.
“Only for very special customers.”
Wait, the diner—I hadn’t gone there in a long time…and the black skirt he mentioned, the drycleaners lost it months ago…
“Are you thinking too much again?” he asked. “You know that can be hazardous to your health.”
“You should talk.”
The emerald of his eyes seemed to darken, and he leaned closer. “There are ways to clear your head.” It felt like he was emitting electricity, like sparks from a downed power line.
I could barely speak. “You’re very good at that.”
His voice was low. “Am I?”
Speech was no longer possible.
He paused as if enjoying my helplessness. His hands slid up my thighs, and he pulled me to the edge of the counter with my knees at either side of his waist.
“Très belle,” he whispered while brushing his fingertips along my cheekbone. Then he touched my lips with his.
At some point the ice must’ve fallen out of my hand to the floor. He stopped, and I heard footsteps on the front walk. He pulled away slowly, brushed his lips on mine once more, and then slid his hands from my neck to the tops of my arms and closed his eyes.
I brushed my hand across his jaw then down his throat and chest.
“Behave,” he ordered, eyes still closed.
I giggled just as someone knocked at the front door. Knocked? No one knocked.
“Come in, Ben,” Alec said.
Ben peeked his head into the kitchen. “Hi, sir. You want this on the dining table?”
Alec’s voice was a bit removed. “Yes, thank you.”
“Sure thing.”
Before Ben made it back out the door, Alec said, “And Ben...”
“Sir?”
“Thank you. I owe you.”
“Not at all.” Then he added, “Besides, we all know you can’t cook. I won’t let Adriane go hungry.” He slipped out as his mustache curved.
Alec rolled his eyes.
“I like Ben,” I said.
“Yeah, you would.”
“He wasn’t lying.” I raised an eyebrow. “Was he?”
The corner of his mouth curved. “I don’t think Ben knows how to lie.”
I tilted my head. “You like him too.”
“He sees things clearly, through all the bullshit. I like having him around. He helps me keep my perspective.” Then he added, “And he’s the only family I have left.”
“Family?”
“Second cousin on my mother’s side.” He picked me up off the counter.
“Hey.” I hooked my legs around him and made sure I didn’t touch his right shoulder.
He took me to the dining room to set me in my usual chair.
“You don’t listen very well,” I said.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Anymore. “It did the other night.”
From the bag on the table, he removed two takeout containers.
“Why’d you carry me to bed?” I pushed.
“I wasn’t about to wake you.”
I glared.
He pressed his lips together, as though he was trying not to laugh. “I’m fine, Adriane.”
“Well, that’s two things you’re not allowed to do.”
“And what might that be?” He handed me utensils.
“No saying ‘I’m sorry’, and you’re not allowed to let yourself hurt.”
He paused as he set a fork on the table for himself. “What if I can’t help it?”
I touched his hand, and he turned it to hold mine. “You’re Superman,” I said. “You can do anything.”
Gaze still on the table, he laughed under his breath. His forehead was slightly furrowed.
He sat, and we ate quietly. Alec’s takeout container was still half full by the time he closed it and set it back in the bag. I set my container on top of his.
“The storm’s passed,” he said. “Go for a walk on the beach?”
“Sure.”
He took my hand, and we were out the back door a few seconds later.
We walked across the lawn to a narrow path that wound its way down to the sand. He carried me over the patch of rocks at the bottom, though he wore no shoes, either. Holding hands, we meandered across the beach toward the almost-calm water. The clouds began to disperse to show the falling sun. It was blindingly bright, as if it had a quota of vitamin D to disperse and was trying to spew a day’s worth in the last hour of light. We cooled our feet in the surf and then continued down the shoreline in easy silence.
It was some distance later that I asked, “How much of this is yours?” We had to be off his property by now.
“Do you see that dock?” he asked as he pointed in the distance.
I could barely see it. “Yes.”
“That’s the closest neighbor.”
“All of this is yours?”
“Yes.” Then he added, “Are you cold?”
The breeze had begun to pick up as the sun faded.
“No,” I said.
“We should get back.”
“Let’s sit and watch the sunset.”
He sat with me on the soft sand and pulled me to his side while we watched the wisps of clouds left over from the storm change color—from smoky to bursting with pink and orange, as if the sun had conspired with the clouds in its goal of daily sunlight. They caught the light from past the horizon and then bounced it to us like a mirror.
He rested a hand lightly across my cheek and hair and moved closer to brush his lips on mine, parted slightly and lingering. I almost couldn’t stand the lightness of his touch, but I also found a certain amount of satisfaction with the suspense. I allowed him to control the kiss.
“Adriane,” he whispered.
I pulled him closer with a hand at his neck and then slid my tongue against his. He moaned. That had to be the most pleasant sound, even better than his zipper. He laid me back on the sand without breaking the kiss, a knee on the ground between my legs. I bent mine, hugging his waist with my thigh.
His hand slid.
The suspense returned with its slow pace. His fingers trailed my neck and then pushed at the loose neckline of my shirt to my cleavage. My breathing increased, pushing my breasts closer to his touch.
Then he moved his hand to my waist.
He pulled back a few inches. “I—” His jaw clenched.
“What is it, baby?” I couldn’t believe I’d called him that out loud.
His expression relaxed.
“Come here,” I whispered.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He resumed passionately. His hand reached around to the small of my back, holding me closer just as he pressed against my hip. I could feel him, his arousal. There was no mistaking it.
His phone rang.
We didn’t stop. I didn’t have the will to let go. I knew this was too good to have for long. But my choice was made. There was no going back. He could have as much of me as he wanted, and for as long as he wanted. I would take whatever he gave me and deal with the pain later.
As we kissed, his phone continued to ring.