Summer in Eclipse Bay

Chapter 19

Shortly before midnight Nick and Jeremy stood with Rafe in the parking lot that fronted the Eclipse Bay Police Department.

"I gotta say, this is a real red-letter occasion for me." Rafe tossed his keys into the air and caught them. "Never thought I'd see the day when a Madison had to bail one of you fine, upstanding, pillar-of-the-community Hartes out of jail. To say nothing of a Seaton."

"If you're looking for undying gratitude, try the Yellow Pages." Jeremy put a cautious hand to his jaw.

"One thing I really hate," Nick muttered, "is a guy who bails you out of jail and then gloats."

"You two are going to look very colorful tomorrow," Rafe said, amused.

"You know, neither of us is in the mood for this." Nick gave him a sour look. "The only thing we want from you right now is a lift back to the Total Eclipse so that we can pick up our cars. Think you can manage that without further comment?"

"No," Rafe said. "You want a ride, you've got to put up with the witty remarks."

Nick exchanged glances with Jeremy. "We could beat him up now or we could do it later."

"I vote for later," Jeremy said. "To tell you the truth, I'm not really up for any more physical activity tonight."

"Okay, later." Nick turned back to Rafe. "Drive."

"My pleasure." Rafe led the way across the parking lot to where he had left Hannah's car.

At that moment another vehicle swung into the lot, briefly dazzling Nick's eyes with its headlights. It came to an abrupt halt nearby. Octavia's fairy-tale coach.

"The perfect end to a delightful evening," Nick said to no one in particular. "It just doesn't get any better than this, does it?"

They all watched the door on the driver's side snap open. Octavia shot out of the front seat. Her red hair was a wild, fiery tangle in the yellow glow of the street lamp.

"No," Rafe said. "It sure doesn't. Oh man, am I ever glad I'm not in your shoes, Nick. All I can say is good luck."

Octavia rushed toward them around the hood of the white compact. She wore a gauzy, ankle-length, flower-patterned skirt and a snug-fitting tee shirt with a deeply scooped neckline. When Nick glanced down, he saw that she was wearing slippers. She had dressed in a hurry.

"I just had a phone call from Hannah. Something about a tavern brawl. Tell me there's been some terrible mistake."

"There's been a mistake, all right," Nick said. "You forgot to put on your shoes. You know, the importance of proper footwear is often overlooked."

"Are you both all right?" she asked.

"Sure," Nick said. "We're fine. Aren't we, Jeremy?"

"We're fine," Jeremy said obligingly.

"They're fine," Rafe assured her.

Nick saw some of her tension ease. The slight shift in the set of her shoulders caused her breasts to move beneath the tee shirt. The thin cotton fabric clung briefly to her nipples and he realized that she was not wearing a bra.

He was suddenly intensely aware of Rafe and Jeremy standing there with him. They were looking at her, just as he was. Probably also noticing that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Annoyed, he yanked off his windbreaker and held it out to her. "Here. Better put this on. It's chilly out here."

She frowned at the jacket, as if she'd never seen one before. He moved closer, putting himself between her and Jeremy and Rafe, and tugged the jacket forcibly around her shoulders. It was so large on her that it fell like a cape in front. He wasn't entirely satisfied, but at least her nipples were no longer visible.

She ignored the jacket to glower at him. "What happened? How did the fight start?"

"Eugene Woods started it," Nick said. He glanced at Jeremy. "Isn't that right?"

"Definitely," Jeremy said. "Eugene Woods was the cause."

Rafe nodded. "Eugene Woods."

"You weren't even there when it happened, Rafe. How do you know?"

"You got a situation involving Mean Eugene and Dickhead Dwayne and you know who started it," Rafe explained.

"Just the way things are in Eclipse Bay," Nick said.

Jeremy opened his mouth to give his two cents' worth. She hushed him with a raised palm and turned back to Nick.

"What was the fight about?"

Nick shrugged. "Bar fight. They happen. Jeremy and I were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Suspicion gleamed in her eyes. She turned to Jeremy.

"Tavern brawls are sort of like whirlwinds and tornadoes," Jeremy said seriously. "Forces of nature. They erupt out of nowhere for no known cause."

She moved on to Rafe. "Do I get an answer from you?"

He held up both hands, palms out. Innocent as a lamb. "I wasn't there, remember?"

She looked at Nick again.

"Hey, it was your idea that I buy Jeremy a drink," he reminded her.

She planted her hands on her hips. The movement parted the edges of the windbreaker and stretched the tee shirt across her unconfined breasts. "So this whole thing is my fault? Is that what you're trying to say? Don't you dare blame this on me, Nick Harte."

Nick moved forward again to block his companions' view. "You can take me back to where I left my car."

"Wait a minute, I'm not finished here," she said.

"Yes," he said. "You are."

He put his arms around her shoulders, turned her smartly around, and shoehorned her into the front seat of her car before she could say another word.

He followed her back to her cottage and got out of the car to see her to her front door.

"There was no need to follow me home." She shoved her key into the lock.

"It's after midnight and this cottage is pretty isolated out here on the bluff."

"This is Eclipse Bay." She turned the key. "Probably has the lowest crime rate on the entire West Coast."

"It's still late. I'd have worried." But mostly he would have gone crazy alone in bed tonight, thinking about her. Maybe it was some kind of testosterone hangover, a residual effect of the brawl. Or maybe he was in worse shape than he had realized.

She got the door open, stepped inside, and switched on a lamp. Turning, she studied him from the opening. With the light behind her, it was impossible to read her expression. Her red hair formed a fiery aura around her face. She was doing the enigmatic Fairy Queen thing again. He wanted to put her down on a bed and bury himself so deep inside her that she would never be able to forget that she was as human as he was.

"Thank you," she said, ever so polite. "As you can see, I'm home, safe and sound. You may leave now."

He wanted her so badly he'd probably go out into the woods and howl at the moon if she forced him to leave tonight.

He reached out and gripped the door frame. "Invite me inside."

"Why should I do that?"

"How about because I've had a hard night and it was, as you have already noted, your fault."

"I told you not to blame that tavern brawl on me." She tipped her head a little. "By the way, you never told me how things went between you and Jeremy this evening. Were you able to work through some of your issues before the brawl erupted?"

"Oh, yeah, we definitely rebonded."

Her expression softened. "I'm so pleased."

He saw his opening and put one foot over the threshold. "Now can I come inside?"

"Nick-"

He leaned forward and shushed her with a slow, deep kiss, careful not to touch her. If he put his hands on her, he thought, he might not be able to take them off again. Not before morning, at least.

She did not retreat. He felt a little shudder go through her. Progress, he told himself. When he lifted his mouth he saw that her lips were soft and parted.

"You know what?" he said. "I am not in the mood to talk about my issues with Jeremy tonight."

"I understand." The tip of her tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"You already asked me that earlier."

"Yes, I know, but you sound a little weird."

"Possibly because I am feeling a little weird." Also a little wired, he thought. As if he were running on high-voltage electrical current.

"Maybe you're having some sort of delayed reaction to the violence."

"Maybe."

She raised her hand. He thought she was going to touch his face, but at the last instant she hesitated, fingertips an inch from his jaw. "Did you take any blows to the head?"

"I can't remember." He caught the drifting fingertips in one hand and raised them to his lips. "Could be that I did and it gave me amnesia."

"Nick." Softer now. And there was a broken edge on his name.

He drew one of her fingertips into his mouth and bit gently. She drew in a sharp breath.

He took that as an invitation and glided over the threshold. She moved back to allow him inside. He closed the door behind himself and reached for her.

"Oh, Nick."

And then she was in his arms, clinging wildly, her lips against his throat.

"I was so worried when Hannah told me there had been a fight," she whispered urgently against his neck. "And then she said you were at the police station and that you'd called Rafe to come bail you out and I got mad. But I was still scared, too. It was awful."

"It's okay," he said into her mouth. "Everything is okay."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I will be soon."

He scooped her up and carried her toward the hall. There was enough light from the single lamp she had switched on a moment ago to guide him past the darkened bathroom into the shadow-drenched bedroom.

His first thought when he saw the bed was that it was surrounded with ghosts. Then he realized that he was looking at a lot of pale, gauzy draperies. The hangings spilled from a wrought-iron frame that arched overhead.

The hidden bower of the Fairy Queen, he thought.

He let Octavia slide slowly down the length of his body until she was on her feet once more and then he peeled off the tee shirt. He'd been right about the lack of a bra. Her elegantly curved breasts fit perfectly into the palms of his hands. He moved his thumbs lightly across her taut nipples. She closed her eyes. Another little tremor went through her. He felt his own body shudder in response.

He lowered his hands slowly down her sides, savoring the feel of warm, soft skin until he found the elasticized waistband of the long, flowing skirt. Sliding his palms beneath the band, he pushed the garment down over her hips.

And discovered that a bra was not the only item of underwear that she had neglected that evening.

He let the skirt drop to her ankles. Then he threaded his fingers through the triangle of curling hair. Damned if he would ever tell Eugene or any other man that Octavia was, indeed, a natural redhead.

"You're not wearing any panties," he said against her bare shoulder.

"I was in a hurry when I left the cottage tonight."

"I may go crazy here."

A smile played at the edges of her mouth. She started to unfasten his shirt. "Because I forgot to put on a pair of panties?"

"Doesn't take much to drive me over the edge when I'm this close to you."

"I'm glad."

She separated the edges of his shirt and flattened her palms against his chest. "I'm not feeling wholly sane myself at the moment."

He eased her backward, kissing her with every step, until she came up against the high bed. The ghostly bed curtains drifted gently behind her, guarding the interior of the secret bower.

He did not take his mouth from hers when he reached behind her to pull the hazy fabric aside. Grasping the quilt, he pulled it straight down to the foot of the bed, exposing pristine white sheets.

He picked her up, put her down on the pale bedding, and stepped back to finish undressing himself. The wispy bed hangings drifted closed. On the other side of the veil Octavia watched him through the misty material. She lay on her side, knees slightly bent, hips curved in graceful, seductive lines.

He stood there for a few seconds, every muscle rigid with the effort it took to exert some control over the aching, raging need that was uncoiling rapidly throughout his body. It had never been like this with any other woman, he thought, baffled and bemused. He could not seem to wrap his mind around this sensation. It was not just physical. He was old enough and sufficiently experienced to take the physical effects in stride.

There was something else going on here. He knew that in the depths of his soul. He'd been trying to ignore it, work around it, deny it, but there was no possibility of avoiding the reality. Octavia was different.

He looked at her through the drifting veils that surrounded the bed, and for a moment he wondered if she really was a sorceress who had somehow managed to enchant him.

He had no time to wonder about his predicament. The heaviness of his erection made it impossible to think clearly. He fought his way out of the rest of his clothing.

When he pulled the bed hangings aside the second time, Octavia reached for him, drawing him down onto the snowy sheets. He put one hand on the sweet, round curve of her hip and she twisted urgently against him.

"Nick."

"Not so fast," he whispered.

But she was moving, sliding, slipping along the length of him. He felt her mouth on his chest and then her tongue touched his belly.

When her fingers curled around him and her lips moved lower, he thought he disintegrate.

He rolled her onto her back, pinning her with one leg thrown across her thighs. "I meant what I said. We're going to take this nice and slow."

"Are we?" Her voice was both mischievous and sensual. A woman who knows she's in control of the situation. She wriggled a little beneath his weight. "Do you really want to go slow?"

"Most definitely," he said. "I want to go slow tonight. And what's more, I'm going to make sure that we do."

She drew her fingertips down the length of his back. "Wanna bet?"

"Oh, yeah."

He bent his head and covered her mouth with his own. When she was absorbed in the kiss, giving herself completely over to it, working her sorcery, he reached out and snagged one of the trailing bed hangings.

He looped the fabric around her left wrist and tied a quick knot in it. "Ummph?"

She wrenched her mouth away from his. Her eyes snapped open.

He grasped a wispy hanging on the opposite side of the bed and anchored her other wrist.

"Oh, my." She looked up at him, sexy laughter sparkling in her eyes. "This is interesting."

He leaned over her, bracing his weight on his elbows. "I thought so."

"All this just to slow me down?"

"I'm a desperate man."

She could pull the airy bed hangings down and free herself with a couple of quick tugs, but somehow he didn't think she would do that. He sensed that she was in a mood to walk on the wild side tonight. He could tell because he was inclined in the same direction. A shining example of synchronicity at work.

"What happens next?" she murmured.

"I don't know." He slid one hand between her legs and found the pearl in the oyster. He smiled when he felt her move beneath him, seeking more. "Shall we find out?"

"Oh, yes." She licked her lips and looked up at him through veiled lashes. "Let's do that."

He stroked her slowly, dampening his hand in her dew.

She lifted her hips against his fingers, tempting him with her body. She could have lured an angel into trouble. And he was no angel.

He moved down her body with his mouth, going lower until her scent enveloped him. He was so hard now he dared not brush his erection against her skin for fear of losing the fragile grip on his self-control. This was going to be a test of endurance and he was determined to make sure that he won tonight.

Eventually, when she was moaning and restless, he found the small, sensitive nubbin with his mouth. She caught her breath and tensed.

"Nick."

He used his tongue until she was gasping and writhing.

"Yes, please, yes. Now, damn it."

He slid a finger into her, searching for the spot; pressed upward. She gasped.

"Yes. Right there. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes. Nick"

She came in shuddering little waves of raw, feminine energy that took his breath away. He barely made it back up her body in time to sink himself fully into her before his own climax ripped through him.

She jerked her arms abruptly and then her nails were in his back and her legs were wrapped snugly around his hips. The last thing he remembered was the feel of the bed hangings floating down like so many silken cobwebs, tangling him in a snare he did not think that he would ever be able to escape.

He came back to his senses a long time later. For a moment he did not open his eyes, preferring to savor the satisfaction that hummed through him. He was content to drift forever in the aftermath of the lovemaking.

Then he felt the soft touch of gauzy fabric twining around his right wrist. He opened one eye. Octavia's breasts brushed across his chest when she leaned over him to secure his other wrist to the bedpost. He opened his other eye.

"What's going on here?" he asked with lazy interest.

She straddled him and smiled slowly. "My turn."

"Oh, wow."

She felt him leave the bed again shortly before dawn. Dismay and regret and a strange resentment whispered through her. She opened her eyes and stared at the wall, listening to him pad barefooted across the floor.

Of course he was leaving. What had she expected him to do? Stay until morning? What would be the point? This was a summer affair.

But she was not about to let him just slide out like this. He could say a proper goodbye when he left her bed, damn it.

She turned on her side, searching for him in the shadows, expecting to see him making for the bathroom with his clothes. But he wasn't creeping across the carpet.

He stood at the window, one hand braced against the sill, and looked out at the moonlit bay. The pale glow streaming through the glass etched his shoulders in steely silver and cast his profile into deep shadow.

"Nick?" She levered herself up on her elbows. "What are you doing?"

He turned his head to look toward the bed. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About what happens at the end of the summer."

She did not move. She did not even breathe. "This isn't The Talk, is it? Because if you're trying to sneak it in now-"

"It's not The Talk," he said, his voice roughening abruptly.

She stared at him. "Are you angry?"

"Maybe. Yeah. I think so. I'm trying to have a rational discussion here and you're throwing that crap about The Talk in my face."

He was angry, all right. Fair enough. She was rapidly losing her temper, too.

"Okay, sorry," she said stiffly. "I just wanted to be sure you weren't going to try to deliver that stupid talk now. Because it's much too late."

He did not move for a few seconds. Then he came away from the window and walked back to the bed to stand looking down at her.

"Too late?" he repeated neutrally.

"Whether you like it or not, we are involved in a relationship. It may not work out for a variety of reasons, but I'll be damned if I'll let you put some arbitrary limit on it."

"There seems to be some confusion here," he said coldly. "You're accusing me of trying to specify the time and date when this thing between us ends, but I'm not the one who keeps talking about leaving Eclipse Bay in a few weeks."

She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it quickly.

Okay, he had a point.

She cleared her throat. "That's different."

"Like hell."

She glowered. "I have to be pragmatic. I've got a business to sell. That takes time and planning. And then there's the move. A person can't make those sorts of arrangements on a last-minute basis."

He put one knee on the tumbled bedding. "You're the one who's running scared here."

"That's not true."

"Hell, maybe we've both been running scared for a while." He came down on top of her, pushing her back onto the pillows. "But I think it's time we both stopped."

"You do?"

"If you want to sleep with me, lady, you're going to have to take a few chances."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?" she managed. "Are you willing to take a few risks, too?"

His smile was slow and enigmatic in the shadows. His eyes had never been more dangerous. Or promised so much.

"I've been taking chances since the day I met you," he said. "Want to know why I didn't give you The Talk back at the beginning of this affair?"

"Yes."

"I forgot about it, that's why. Never even crossed my mind to give you The Talk." He brushed his mouth across hers. "You see? Taking chances."

"Oh."

He bent his head again and put his mouth to her throat. She felt the edge of his teeth against her skin and excitement stormed through her. She wrapped her arms around him and stopped thinking about the end of summer.