Summer in Eclipse Bay (24 page)

“You know,” Jeremy said, “if you'd ever bothered to read one of Nick's books, you'd know he never gets into a fight without his trusty sidekick, Bonner.”

Robbed of his ersatz rapier, Dwayne scrambled to a halt and turned to throw a short punch at Jeremy. He caught one of the other pool players on the shoulder, instead.

“Hey, watch it, you little creep.” The player took a swipe at Dwayne and sent him tumbling into one of the men who had come from the bar area to see what all the excitement was about.

A man standing behind Nick chuckled. “Man, the little redhead must be one hot number, huh? So what's the deal? Is she, or isn't she a natural—”

Nick swung around and punched the commentator in the chest. The man fell back against a table. His cue stick went sailing and struck someone else.

The poolroom exploded in a firestorm of shouts and flying fists.

Nick turned back, searching for Eugene amid the swarm of sweating, heaving bodies.

“Son of a bitch, Harte.” Eugene had managed to get up off the floor. He threw himself at Nick.

Nick moved out of the way and came up against Sandy Hickson, who had wandered into the poolroom. The two went down together and rolled under a table.

Jeremy bent over to look at the pair beneath the table. “Everyone okay down here?”

Someone hauled him up and swung at him. Jeremy took the blow on the side of his jaw and reeled back against a table.

Nick untangled himself from Sandy and came out from under the table in a low rush. He tackled the man who had just hit Jeremy and they both went down, rolling in a small river of spilled beer.

Fred picked up the phone. Sean Valentine and two other officers arrived ten minutes later.

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.