Gull Harbor (6 page)

Max silently cursed Judge Linden. The man was just a well-educated bully. “How can she not have a cell phone? Damn. Do you think you can bring her to the tavern tonight? I want to tell her what I’ve found out, but I should have been at work a half hour ago.”

“Oh.” Dan’s ruddy cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he struggled through his reply. “I don’t think she’ll want to…I mean, I’m not sure I can get her to come to the tavern. She might be busy.”

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his friend. “You know something. About me and Claire.”

“No comment,” said Dan, lifting his hands in surrender. “I promised her I wouldn’t discuss it.”

Anger flared and he tamped it down. None of this was Dan’s fault. “Just remember there are two sides to every story.” He stood up, grabbing the remainder of his sandwich off the plate. “I really have to go now. Try and find a way to get Claire there tonight. Tell her I have information for her about the house and the previous owner, and then pretend you have no idea what that info is.”

“You got it. I’ll do my best.”

He paused as he pulled open the door, a reluctant smile tugging on his lips. “And tell her tonight’s special is fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Is it?” Dan asked.

“It is now. I’ll see you later.”

****

Claire studied the random words written in her notebook as she waited for Dan. “Barracuda” was at the top of the lined page. The new addition was the strange combination of “Day Han Solo.” She frowned.
First a fish, now a Star Wars character
. This was absurd.

A knock at the door made her jump. “Come in,” she called. She glanced once more at her notebook before depositing it on the couch. How was she supposed to make any sense out of that crazy phrase?

Dan stepped into the hallway and gave a low whistle as she stood up. “You look great.”

She flushed as she tugged at the strapless white top she had paired with dark skinny jeans and a silver cuff bracelet. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s perfect.” He stood back and allowed her to pass through the door, then waited as she locked it. Nodding at the cracked window to the right, he said, “I see you’re still making sure you have multiple points of entry.”

She laughed. “A girl’s got to be prepared for anything.” Dan held the car door open for her and she slipped into the seat. “Does Han Solo mean anything to you?” she asked once he was behind the wheel.

“Like Harrison Ford’s character in Star Wars?”

Claire sighed. “Yeah. I thought I heard Maria say something like ‘day Han Solo’ last night, but that’s not exactly right. It’s hard, because she’s not talking directly to me. She just kind of wails things while she’s crying.”

Dan shuddered. “I don’t know how you stand it.”

“It is getting exhausting,” she admitted. “Between the sobbing and the destruction, I don’t get much sleep.”

He glanced at her. “This may sound weird, but you’re always welcome to spend the night at my place. If you need a break, I mean. I know you want to figure this out, but you need to sleep sometimes to be able to do that.”

“Thanks, Dan. I may take you up on that.”

“Anytime.” He put the transmission in park and circled around the car to open the door for her. As they approached Max’s tavern, he squeezed her hand. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

She shrugged. “I’m looking at it as my job. If Max has information for me, I have to listen. Plus, I get to have dinner with you,” she added with a smile.

Max was behind the bar when they entered. He nodded toward them, his blue eyes traveling down the length of her body before he turned his attention to the other bartender. “I’ll be back in a few,” he said, tossing a towel aside.

“Let’s talk before it gets busy,” he said as he approached them. He settled his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward his office.

“I’ll order you a glass of wine,” Dan said.

Her heart knocked out a few panicked staccato beats. She had just assumed Dan would be part of this conversation. She turned back to suggest that he accompany them, but he was already exchanging greetings with a group of men at the bar.

Relax,
she ordered herself. A private discussion with an ex-boyfriend should hardly rate as dangerous to a woman who lived with an antagonistic ghost. She was giving this man too much power.

Still, she flinched slightly when he closed the door to his office. “Have a seat,” he said, rolling out his desk chair.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling the chair forward and leaning on the back rest. “I found out some things about the house, and the last person that lived there, that might be useful.”

She nodded, trying to focus as he recounted what he’d learned about the Williams family. But her gaze fell to his hands, gripping the back of the chair. They were exactly as she remembered: strong fingers with calloused pads that could pick out complicated guitar melodies with ease. Those fingers had once known every inch of her flesh.

“Claire?”

Her gaze flew back to his face. “Sorry, I was thinking about…something. So, ah, people suspected this Gary guy was dealing, but he never got caught?”

“Right. And then he disappeared, just abandoning the house that had been in his family for decades.”

“Hmm. Well, if he was a year-round resident, he had to have had some friends around here. Or drug connections, at the very least. Maybe I can locate some of his buyers, see what I can find out from them.”

Max frowned. “I don’t like that idea at all.” He rolled the chair away and took a step toward her. “Listen, Claire…if you think Gary might be the key, I’ll hire someone to search for him. Just say the word.”

She shook her head vigorously. “I can’t spend your money to do my job. That makes no sense.”

“It’s not about that, Claire. It’s about keeping you safe.” He closed the distance between them, setting off alarm bells in the back of her mind.

Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “I realize you’re trying to help me, and I appreciate that. But what gives you the right to worry about my safety?”

“I don’t need the right.” He stood over her, and she took a step backwards, bumping up against his desk. His words shouldn’t have sounded menacing, but for some reason, they did. She nodded weakly.

“I
am
going to keep you safe, Claire,” he said, his eyes flashing. He reached out and stroked her arm.

A shiver ran through her, and she gripped the edge of the desk for support. “Okay,” she breathed. Every nerve in her body was calling for him. She closed her eyes as his hands moved up to cradle her head.

His mouth seized hers, and her lips responded urgently. She lost herself in the kiss, her fingers weaving themselves around his neck and tangling in his hair. His hands moved to her waist, and she gasped as he hoisted her up on the desk.

He pressed his hips between her legs, and she clenched her thighs around him as a moan escaped her lips. His mouth trailed along her jawline, grazing her ear as he whispered her name.

A rap on the door echoed through the room the moment before the hostess burst into the office. “Max? They—” She stopped abruptly, her face falling in dismay. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Katie.” Max turned his head but kept his arms wrapped around Claire. “What is it?”

“They, ah, they need you…in the kitchen,” she stammered, backing out the door. “I’ll tell them you’re coming. Sorry.” She disappeared as fast as she had entered.

“I should get back to Dan,” Claire murmured into Max’s chest. She was surprised she could string the words together; her mind was reeling. What had just happened?

Max groaned. Sliding his hands back to her waist, he helped her off the desk. “Just to be clear…you two aren’t—”

“No,” she said quickly. “Dan’s my friend.” She assessed her clothing quickly, pulling at her top. “You should go see what’s happening in the kitchen.” Easing around him carefully, she headed for the door.

“Claire…”

She didn’t turn around. “Thanks for all the information,” she called out as she slipped out of his office.

Chapter 8

The moment Claire left the tavern, Max’s anxiety shot through the roof. He needed to know she was safe, and he couldn’t even call her to check. Not that she’d answer his calls anyway. He didn’t blame her.

She deserved an explanation for his behavior five years ago. But the truth would likely ruin any chance of reconciliation between her and her father. Max suspected her relationship with the judge was irreparable, but he couldn’t be sure. And unless her mother made a miraculous recovery, Judge Linden was the only parent she had left.

He locked up the tavern at 1:00 a.m., turning to lean against the back door as he surveyed the empty parking lot. His motorcycle stood alone in the darkness, and he pushed himself away from the building and walked toward it slowly. The need to check on Claire was overwhelming; he knew sleep was not an option until he at least drove by her house.

He swung his leg over the bike and strapped on his helmet, cursing himself. He should never have let her go back there tonight. As if he had a say in the matter, he reminded himself as he turned onto a deserted Main Street. Frustration boiled inside him as he sped away from the town center.

His solitary headlight illuminated a path down the otherwise dark Mill Pond Road. How could she stay in such an eerie place? Even without a ghost, the isolation would be enough to make most people uncomfortable. He pulled up in front of her house and cut the engine.

Wind rustled in the trees, and an animal scavenged in the underbrush. A single light burned from her porch. There was nothing he could do here. His jaw tightened painfully as he struggled with the unfamiliar sense of powerlessness.

He rolled his bike further down the road before starting the noisy engine. Glancing one last time at the silent house, he continued down the road toward the shore. He rode parallel to the coastline, cresting the hills at a dangerous speed as he made his way home.

Fifteen minutes later he was sprawled on his bed, wishing Claire was with him. No matter what she said, tonight’s kiss was proof that the connection between them had survived. His gaze wandered to the clock—2:00 a.m. now. If he wanted to sleep at all tonight, he needed to turn his thoughts away from Claire.

But his body refused to comply. He could still feel her skin on his fingertips, her lips on his. He had been her first lover, and memories of that day flooded his mind relentlessly.

Back then, Max had been surprised at his restraint. It had been two months that they had dated without being intimate—a new record for him. But he sensed she wasn’t ready. And there was something holding him back as well.

He had needed an answer to the awkward question that was driving him crazy. As he stood kissing her in his dorm room one snowy Thursday morning, he decided to ask her before he exploded.

Her clothes were still chilly from her walk across campus. He rubbed his palms over her soft sweater to warm her before his hands made their way under her clothes to her even softer skin. Her lips responded to his hungry kisses with equal passion, and Max felt his seemingly constant erection throb.

He pulled his mouth from hers reluctantly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I need to know something. Do you think my father will come to you again?”

A worried crease formed between her emerald eyes. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No. I mean, things are the same—the vicious custody battle rages on. It’s taking its toll on my mom.”

“I’m sorry, Max,” she said, pressing her body into his in a tight hug. “But I don’t think he’ll be able to talk to me again. Usually when a spirit has unfinished business, they end up trapped between worlds. It took a long time for your dad to get through, because there was no one to help him deliver his message. But now your dad has told you not to worry about the argument and to take care of your mom, so I think he’s probably moved on. In that case, he won’t be back.”

“So, he won’t show up here and…see us?”

Understanding slowly dawned across her perfect features. “Oh my God—you’re worried he’ll catch us in a compromising position! No, that won’t happen, I’m almost positive.” She pushed her hips against his and nibbled on his ear. “Feel better?”

He groaned. “I’m feeling a lot of things.” Smiling wickedly, he maneuvered her toward the bed.

“I’m glad you asked,” she said as they came up for air. “I was starting to think you weren’t all that into me.”

“Oh, I’m into you. Let me show you how much I’m into you.” His knee moved between her legs and he lowered her down on the bed.

He pulled the blankets over them as she helped him tug off her tight clothes. Unhooking her bra, he trailed his mouth down her neck and over her breast. When he settled his lips on her rosy nipple, she flinched, digging her fingernails into his bare shoulders. Maybe he was being too aggressive.

Moving slowly, he rubbed his hand between her legs, and he felt her relax under the gentle pressure. But when he slipped one finger inside her, she gasped and tightened.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, stroking her thigh tenderly.

“No.”

An unwelcome thought had been lurking in the back of his mind, and now it shot to the surface. “You’ve done this before, right?” He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

“No,” she repeated softly.

Oh, God. He drew his head back and studied her face. “Claire, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does.” His gaze traveled over her parted lips to her flushed cheeks, surrounded by a cloud of mahogany curls. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath the tender skin of her neck. “I’m sorry—I’ve seen birth control pill packs on your dresser, and I guess I just assumed…”

“I have to take those, otherwise I get debilitating cramps. But it’s good—that means we’re protected.”

He shook his head. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Don’t you want me?”

He groaned. “Of course I want you,” he told her, moving her hand over the hardness trapped under his jeans. “But it’s your first time. It’s 10:00 in the morning. We both have class in an hour!”