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Authors: Tiffinie Helmer

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BOOK: EDGE
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“I thought Tom said you two work for an outdoor magazine.”

The bastard wasn’t going to let it drop.

“Environmentalist group,” Tom said, jumping into the conversation.

“What would environmentalists be doing in the Middle East?” Garrett asked. “I would think the risk would be too severe.” Didn’t he care how this would affect Mel?

Silence lengthened until all that could be heard was the shucking of crab shells. Soon that stopped too.

“We…uh…sent Cache there to try to get pictures of how the present situation was affecting the…uh…habitat of the monitor lizard,” Tom said.

“The monitor lizard?” Garrett asked, his fork hanging halfway to his mouth.

“Uh…yeah. People forget, because of the years of fighting in the Middle East, it has seriously degraded the environment. Not only of the monitor lizards, but of the onager, gazelle, camels and such.” Tom warmed to his story.

“I heard something about that on the Discovery Channel,” Mrs. Whitney said.

Tom straightened in his seat. “Yes, that’s why we sent Cache in to do a piece on it. By the way,” he addressed Nicole, “these are excellent potatoes.”

What that man wouldn’t say to get a story.

“Thank you.” A blush lit Nicole’s face.

“So, Cache,” Garrett said, steering the conversation back to where he wanted it. “If you were over there doing a story on lizards, how you were the victim of a suicide bombing?”

“Simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He folded his napkin and threw it on his plate. “Mel, if you’re finished, I’d like a word with you.”

“Uh…okay.” Mel looked to the other guests. “If you will excuse me,” she said, rising from her chair.

Cache stood to follow.

Tom grabbed his arm. “Cache—”

“Shut up and eat your potatoes.” Cache freed himself from Tom’s desperate grasp and followed Mel into the lodge.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Mel asked once they were inside the great room.

“That’s exactly what I want to do. Can we go to my room?” She gave him an uneasy look. “Or anywhere else where we won’t be disturbed.” Cache waited for her to tell him no, but she nodded and led the way.

Once inside, she stood in the middle of the room with that big log bed at her back. He remembered just a few days ago having her on it and saying all the wrong things.

“What’s so important?” she asked. She twisted her hands together, and when she caught him noticing, put them in the back pockets of her jeans.

Mistake. The flannel shirt parted and the thin white top she wore showed off her breasts.

She must have realized where his thoughts had headed, because she backed up a step. “I thought we came in here to talk?”

“We did.” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Sorry. I have a hard time keeping my train of thought when I’m around you.”

She arched her brows in a question.

“You have a way about you that has me thinking things I shouldn’t.” He gestured to her clothing. “Look at you. Dressed like a man, hiding your body.” He moved closer. This time she didn’t step back. “You present a front to the world that shouts you don’t give a damn if they reject or accept you. It’s damn hard to resist.”

She bit her bottom lip.

He was getting to her. Hopefully, as much as she’d already gotten to him. He had that crazy wish rock in his pocket. He’d been rubbing the finish off it all day, wishing she would accept him for who he was and not dismiss him outright.

“The thought of you sleeping just across the hall torments me all night.”

She swayed toward him. His hands brushed over the curve of her shoulders, down to the bend of her elbows. He bent to kiss the side of her neck, just under her ear. Her head tilted to give him better access, and he explored the curve of her jaw until her hand came up and buried itself in his hair.

His lips were a hair’s breath away from hers when he whispered, “Christ. I’ve got to kiss you.”


Yes
,” she hissed, reaching up and aligning her lips with his.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
~MATTHEW 6:15

Emily pouted as Tom excused himself from the table. He hadn’t paid any attention to her since Mel and Cache had left. She’d taken extra steps in her appearance tonight. Not that anybody noticed. She left her dessert, grabbed her hoodie, and followed.

He was right where she knew he’d be, under the pilings. She was beginning to think of it as their spot. She found him lighting a cigarette off the butt of another, and then stomping the butt into the sand with enough force to smother a campfire. What did he have to be so upset about?

“Hey,” Emily said as she neared. He jerked and then swore as ash dropped from his cigarette and hit his bare chest, exposed from the opened-collared shirt he wore. She smirked as he swore again, brushing ash from his chest.

Slick had lost some of his shine.

“You missed dessert.” She shook her own cigarette from the pack she’d liberated from Linnet’s room and hidden in the pocket of her hoodie. He was quick to light it for her, cupping the end, shielding the flame from the slight, salty breeze coming off the ocean. She could sure get used to this gentlemanly stuff. She liked having a man do for her and didn’t believe it weakened her in the least. If anything it made her stronger. Definitely smarter.

“Wanta fill me in on what’s got you so on edge?” She blew smoke out of pursed lips, thrilling at the way his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. If she played her cards right, he was going to kiss her. She almost danced at the thought. First it looked as though she’d have to play the concerned and caring girlfriend bit. She stroked her hand down his arm. “Wow, you’re tense. You’re supposed to be on vacation, relaxing and all that stuff.”

“Relaxing? I haven’t been able to relax since I got here.” Tom ran a hand through his hair, mussing up his slicked-back do.

She took advantage and smoothed it back into place, enjoying the silky feel of his thick hair between her fingers. “Why’s that?” She was close to him, their breath mixing. His eyes focused on her lips. He leaned in, looking like he was going to kiss her. He paused as though thinking he shouldn’t. She took the deciding out of his hands and kissed him. At the touch of her lips, he seemed to lose hold of something inside him, because he grabbed her tight against him, pulling her flush to his body.

Now this was more like it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on.

Ooh snap, his kiss was hot.
Way better than Derrick’s rush and fumble. Derrick had been all tongue. Wet and sloppy. Tom took his time, sucking and nibbling at her lips before diving deeper. She’d never felt like this before. All tingly and full of energy. Like her nerves were dancing inside her with nowhere to go, swarming like bees.

How would he be with the more-than-kissing stuff? She’d bet he’d be pretty good at that too. Derrick had grabbed and squeezed. She didn’t think Tom would do either of those.

“Ouch.” Tom jerked, letting her go. “What the hell?” He reached behind him and brushed his shoulder. “You dropped your cigarette on me.”

She felt heat rise in her face. So uncool. Think femme fatale. “Sorry,” she breathed, “your kiss just made me forget everything.”

Tom’s scowl smoothed into a boyish grin. “Really?”

Boy, did she have his number. “Uh-huh.” She leaned into him and traced his lips with her fingertip. “You have a way of making a girl forget everything with these.”

His voice turned husky, “I shouldn’t be kissing you.”

She gave him the seductive pout she’d practiced in the mirror. “You don’t like kissing me?”

“No. Yes,” he stumbled. “Yes, I do.” He cleared his throat. “I’m older than you.”

If he only knew. “I believe that you’re as old as you feel.”

“For the record, how
old
do
you
feel?”

“Twenty-one.” She held her breath, hoping he’d buy it.

“Twenty-one, huh?” He studied her.

Emily nodded, forcing herself to breathe before she passed out.

“I’m twenty-nine. That’s quite the age difference.”

“You’re right.” She gave him a slow look, starting at his slicked-back hair and ending at his polished hiking boots. “You might be too
old
for me.”


I
might be too old?” His brows knitted.

“Yeah. Twenty-nine’s getting up there. Next year you’ll be thirty.” She shuddered.

He seemed to catch on to her teasing. “I’ll still be young enough to keep up with you.”

“Time will tell.” She had to change the subject. Age was something she didn’t want him dwelling on. “Want to tell me what had you so upset earlier?”

For a moment, he looked as though he wasn’t going to give. He sat on a washed-up weathered log. She joined him, and he started talking. Almost like he couldn’t shut up. First, boring stuff—worried about his job, about some story, a car with a foreign name that she had never heard of. She’d started to drift, lighting another cig, puffing away, and wondering how long she had to stay and listen to him before he’d kiss her again. Blah, blah, blah.

“—Mel’s kidnapping.”

Whoa! Back up the bus.
Nobody talked about Aunt Mel’s kidnapping.

Emily froze with the cigarette half way to her mouth. How did this guy even know Aunt Mel had been kidnapped? Whenever she’d asked about it, she’d been told that she was too young. Before they’d come here, she’d asked her mom again, wanting to know what had happened to the aunt that nobody talked about. Mel’s kidnapping was at the top of the list of things never to bring up. Her mother had actually made her promise.

But Emily knew all about what had happened to Aunt Mel. The Internet was full of information about all that had happened.

Then there had been the movie.

She’d rented it and watched it at her girlfriend’s house during a sleepover. It had made her sick to think of all that had happened to someone she knew, let alone was related to. She had a huge respect for what Aunt Mel had overcome, how could she not. She didn’t understand why it was so hush, hush. After all, the whole world knew about it.

“—what’s the big deal anyway?” Tom didn’t seem to need an answer as he rushed through his tirade. “A few snapshots accompanied by a handful of words. I ask you, what woman wouldn’t want a piece written up about her? Besides, think of the free publicity Mel’s going to receive for the lodge. We’re doing her a service really.”

If she had this right, Tom and Cache were here to get Aunt Mel’s story, twenty years later.

Holy, jumping jelly beans, would they interview
her
? She could just see it now—young, beautiful niece of kidnapped victim—

“—and now, because of some
ethics
he’s developed, Cache is up there, right now, telling Mel everything.” Tom tore his hands through his hair.

Emily saw her magazine fantasy torn to pieces. “You’ve got to stop him. Right now.” She punctuated the words by grounding out her cigarette and grabbing Tom’s shirt between her fists. “Aunt Mel hates the guy who took her picture. Not only does she blame that Dawson guy, she blames the photographer for victimizing her too.”

Tom looked at her in shock, cursed, and then rushed up the beach toward the lodge without even a goodbye or a see you later.

Emily frowned and faced the cove.

Hmm, what to do. Should she tell? If she did, Aunt Mel was going to kill Cache, and probably Tom too. She’d kick them off The Edge for sure. Emily didn’t want Tom going anywhere. She’d really liked being kissed by him and wanted to know what else Tom would do differently than Derrick. If he left, she’d also lose her chance at being interviewed and having her picture in an international magazine.

That would show her father. He didn’t have enough time for her with that new woman in his life. If Emily was in a magazine, she just knew her father would be excited about his little girl being famous. Then maybe she could live with him back in Oregon where her life and her friends were. She would be a senior in high school this fall. She had to get back home. If her mother had ideas of her finishing high school somewhere else, like in Alaska—
gross
—then her life would truly be over.

She lit another cigarette, proud of how good at smoking she’d become.

Rinka came up to her, dropped a stick at her feet, and nudged her hand. Emily scratched the husky between the ears and came to a decision.

No, she wouldn’t tell anyone.

At least, not yet.

BOOK: EDGE
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