Collide & Burn (12 page)
THE KEYS, OH my gosh, the Keys.
Jimmy Buffett’s place was where I watched my mom burst out with song and my dad pull her up for a dance. I turned to Wade, and he said. “Happy?”
Could I be any happier? I nodded my head vigorously and said, “Boardwalk
…
want to go for a stroll and watch all the performers on the boardwalk.”
We waved at my parents and, hand in hand, made our way over to the boardwalk overlooking that beautiful water.
“Yeah, but I think we’ll leave your parents here for now. We’ll come get them when we’re ready to take the ferry back to the island.”
Wade had booked us rooms at Little Palm Island, an island with one small but luxurious inn. He always does it up right.
He even brought my easel and paint supplies. The orders for my paintings were coming in faster than I could ever imagine.
Life, I knew, would not always be good. Life is like that, full of ups and downs, and I told him that.
“Sure, I know, but as long as we travel the ups and downs together
…
it will belong to us, this life. I had a hole in me, Charlie. It was too big to repair. I filled it with sex, but it was never enough. You came and, Charlie
…
you didn’t just fill that whole, you filled all of me. You are in my mind all the time. I can’t eat something without wondering if it is something you might enjoy. I can’t feel the breeze without thinking, ah Charlie would love this breeze in her face
…
or see a TV comedy show without wondering if you would find it funny
…
Charlie
…
you fill me
.”
I hugged him and then nearly screamed out loud because there was a performing cat show on the boardwalk. Cats
…
performing to commands. Little cats
…
?
I exclaimed and pulled him along, and we laughed. He kissed my hand and said, “I talked to your mom and told her I’ll pay for any wedding they would like to throw for you, but my deal is that we do it in three months. I won’t wait longer to make you Mrs. Wade Devon.”
“I wonder why you can’t be Mr. Charlie Wells,” I teased.
“Charlie, I will be anything you want
…
just stay forever,
stay with me
.”
“Says the man who doesn’t stay or do relationships.”
“Until he met his Waterloo—Charlie.”
I slapped him. “Don’t compare us to a bloody battle, you naughty, wonderful man.”
He kissed me then, and he kissed me again, and if I’d had socks on, he would have knocked them off.
*** *** ***
In the mood for some paranormal with your romance?
Riley Doogan wants normal, but what she gets is more—
a lot more. Read her story in
Journey
HOW DID IT get to be so late? The morning was nearly gone, and I wasn’t halfway through all the chores I had set for myself. I am a work-alcoholic, or so I have been told, and I suppose it is the truth
. I have no life
. I am twenty-four years old and own an upscale store we—we being my partner Betty and I—started four years ago while I was still in my last year at Columbia University.
A groan made its way out of my mouth as I stared at the boxes of perfect knit infant-wear to be uniquely displayed in our substantial window overlooking New York City’s famous Fifth Avenue. How we had managed to get this location at the price we did, I still don’t know. That was all Betty!
Betty laughed at me and shook her head. “Why don’t you let Joe do that when he gets here? I mean, Riley, that’s what he does—windows. You can’t do it all, hon—you just can’t.”
Betty is not only my partner, but over the last four years she has become my best friend. I sighed and was about to cave and agree with her when I heard the bell that rings whenever the shop door opens. I stepped back from the display window and glanced absently over to the newcomer.
Damn, hot damn, but that absent glance turned into a stare as I nearly knocked over an entire shelf of infant sweaters.
What have we here?
I am never bowled over by a good-looking man. I have always needed more, but one look at this hottie, and my eyebrows went up and my heart started thumping. I know,
crazy
. What happened next was not really something I was immediately able to control. Hormones are like that, you know. I felt them start marching to a fervent beat, and my throat went dry.
Everything about him was ‘money and power,’ which wasn’t unusual, as we run a very high-end children’s clothing store that features handmade items and custom-made clothing. Our customers are wealthy, and we even get our fair share of celebrities—again, due to Betty’s contacts. Even so, I discovered my usual calm completely blown apart.
He wore a smile that was more a cool smirk, and it boldly shouted,
I’ve got it all, and I don’t care.
I am rarely intimidated by this sort, and yet, there I was, right from my head to my toes, ready to hide and watch him from a hidden corner.
Absolutely ridiculous
.
I tried to turn away, but not before I took another survey and put him down to memory. I liked the way his thick, blue-black hair was styled in layers of shiny waves, some of which fell across his forehead and over his ears. I swallowed as my appraisal then determined that not only was he very tall—well over six feet—but he also had strong, football-man shoulders. All at once, I was oddly reminded of Wolverine, predatory and more than capable.
He was dressed in an expensive black sports jacket over what looked like a gray silk T-shirt. His black pants were also silky and hung over his hips in masculine lines. His green eyes opened wide and held a glint of something undefined as he looked me over, and I felt my cheeks suddenly burn. Did I say undefined? That’s not right. Those green eyes said,
Bed … going to take you to bed
.
My tongue slicked over my bottom lip, and I hurriedly decided I needed to study an article of clothing hanging on a nearby rack.
Even as I managed to look away and mentally slap myself, I couldn’t help glancing back over my shoulder at him.
What is wrong with me? I don’t behave like this.
I don’t, and there I was, not able to stop looking at him again.
I know better than to allow myself to be attracted to the kind of man
I was sure he was
, and yet, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.
Then I noticed myself in the mirrored wall to my left and nearly rolled my eyes. I was a mess. Both my top and my skirt had hiked up when I’d bent over the display case, and not in that cute, ‘have a peek at my midriff’, way. No, I was a rumpled mess, with a little extra thigh thrown in as a bonus. And my hair? Don’t ask.
As it happens, I have an option most women don’t possess. I could right myself with a blink of an eye,
but
magic
is a thing I don’t play with unless I absolutely have to do so. Magic is a natural option for me. I don’t need potions or chants or even my Rowan Wand, though I prefer to hold onto it when I actually perform magic. I can blink, think, point my finger and …
magic.
He walked past me without a word and smiled at Betty as I pulled my blue cotton knit top back into place, smoothed out the wrinkles from my cream-colored pencil skirt, and undid the tie holding only some of my black hair up. I was still raking my fingers through the thick strands of my hair when he turned, swept his gaze over me, and smirked.
Everything about him had me off balance. He said something to Betty, but I couldn’t hear what it was, unusual as I have exceptional hearing—very exceptional hearing.
“Riley?” Betty called me over with a wave of her hand. “This gentleman would like a word with you.”
I turned around and slid a hand over my clothes again, frowning slightly. I mean, what could he want with me?
Holy shit
! The way he appraised me made my knees wobble, and I almost tripped over myself. Almost. I managed to stay upright, although I couldn’t think straight.
If that wasn’t bad enough, I then made the mistake of meeting his eyes as I approached. He had a killer smile. At that moment that dangerous smile was all for me. I found myself changed from the capable business woman I had become into a pile of Jell-O. No mind, no bones, just Jell-O. In this state, staring at him, you see, full on, he had taken my breath away. He had reduced me to a thoughtless blob of gelatin.
As I said, I know better than to be affected by a good-looking guy. Been there, done that, got burned. Here is the thing: I was not looking for hot, or so I had convinced myself. I was a mature young woman and smarter than I used to be. What I wanted was sure and steady. So, the question was, what the hell?
I looked into those sultry green eyes of his and decided that I had to get control and keep this man and his hotness at arm’s length. He was everything I had made up my mind to stay away from.
I put on my business smile and the business exterior I had developed over the last four years and went forward, my hand extended and a professional welcome plastered on my face.
He took my fingers, and I felt a super-charged laser beam of sensation singe my veins. The sensation shot through my arm and up to my head. It was like a blast of electricity, unexpected but not painful—rather, it was oddly titillating and pleasurable, more pleasurable than anything I had ever experienced before. His touch created an eruption of hot blood—or was it lava?—in my veins. It swept through me, turned me into an idiot that couldn’t speak at all.
Speak
? I couldn’t form a clear thought. His touch had burned my brain into a pile of ash.
The sound of his voice was like a balm, dreamy and soft, and it held that Irish accent I love so well. “I thought I recognized ye from yer pictures, Miss Doogan. Maddy had them all over the house.” He inclined his head. “I am so very sorry for yer loss.”
“You … you know—knew my grandmother?” Who was this guy? I had lost my granny three months earlier, and I was still reeling from that loss. I couldn’t seem to stop thinking she would call … even now when the phone rings (which isn’t often these days unless it is business) I think for a second it is my grandmother, and I then remember she is gone.
“Aye, we really became quite close this past year after I moved back to Dunraven. I’m Finn, Finn Dunraven.”
I had a really difficult time processing anything beyond my reaction to him at that moment and the information that he and my grandmother had become, as he said, close.
Okay, bad enough that I was tongue-tied, absolutely intimidated by his hotness, his coolness, his overwhelming sexual vibe, but this was the Finn Dunraven my grandmother had spoken so often about! Everything she had gone on and on about in regards to him all came back to me in a wave of sudden clarity.
The Dunraven estate, this man’s estate, had always been in our town of Sutterville, Maine. The estate had been there for centuries, but no one had ever been in residence there while I was growing up. Now, out of the blue, here he was.
I was overwhelmed by his presence. There is no other way to describe how I felt. I wanted to say something intelligent, but all I could do was nod at him as I tried to regain my composure and hoped he wasn’t actually aware of my complete engine failure.
Finally I managed a quiet, “Thank you.”
Breathe
, I told myself.
Breathe.
I should tell him that my grandmother spoke of him. I should say, yes, I had heard he was installed back at Dunraven this past year. What did I do? I went into business mode and asked, “What can I do for you, Mr. Dunraven?”
“Ah, right to the point, eh, lass?” He grinned, and I felt like a complete ass. Where were my manners?
He licked his bottom lip as he considered me, and I fixated on his tongue. Insane. I had suddenly fallen into the land of the lost.
He said, “I have a business proposition for ye, Miss Doogan. Could ye, do ye think, spare me a half hour?”
A proposition? What was he saying? Business? What kind of business? I couldn’t understand what he could possibly want to propose to me. I must have had a question on my face, because he chuckled, and his twinkling green eyes drew a smile from me.
Oh
, I told myself immediately,
he is dangerous
. His charm was the kind that seeped in and took over when you weren’t ready and didn’t realize.
Okay, brain, get it together
, I told myself. He was a man,
just a man
.
But
, those nasty hormones of mine whispered,
ah, but listen to his voice, that seductive Irish lilt, and his eyes, oh my gosh, his eyes!
STOP.
I really had to pull myself together.
I looked at Betty, who is often much wiser than I about a variety of subjects. She has ten years on me, a husband, and a newborn. She is stable, and I have gotten into the habit of leaning on her when life gets too hard. Life gets hard unexpectedly and often more so since I lost Granny.
Betty and I make a good team and have a thriving, growing business. So, of course, I looked at her for help, hoping she would get me out of this. I didn’t trust myself to go anywhere with this man.
Help
?
HA! She wasn’t giving the kind I sought. Just the opposite. She said, “Go on, Riley—you need a cup of coffee, and it wouldn’t hurt you to eat something too. When was the last time you ate?” The mother in her always fussed over me.
I grinned stupidly, and when I looked back up at Dunraven, I knew I was in trouble. I was so very dazzled by him. I brilliantly offered, “I … I … um.”
He smirked. “An easy thing to decide, lass … and may I presume to say that yer grandmother told me she wanted you and I to meet. Now is a good time.”
I was on an edge. I knew if I took one step, just one step, I would fall. I am a sure and steady person. I don’t walk near the edge.
I decided this was definitely not a good time, and I would just tell him that.
“Sure, but only for a short time … I have so much work to do today and don’t want to fall behind.” Obviously, the part of the brain controlling my mouth had other ideas.
Betty grimaced at me, waved me off, and said even more forcefully this time, “
Go…go on
, you need a break, Riley. Take as long as you like. Mornings have been slow … now off with you.”
Betty had tried everything she knew to get me to agree to take a vacation. She cajoled and begged and commanded and even did the ‘mother’ thing, but working was a balm for my troubles, and losing my grandmother was—still is—a really difficult thing.
I didn’t want time to think about it, and work ate up my time. I knew she felt guilty because she took all of July off after the birth of her baby girl. I had promised her I would take August, and I’d even fooled myself for a while into thinking that I would, but …
I didn’t
. I should have. I needed to get up to Granny’s—now my—home and sort out the paperwork and everything. The thought of my grandmother no longer waiting there for me, though, still sends shooting pains through my heart.