Wet: Whispering Cove, Book 2 (3 page)

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.” She braced her hands on the counter and said, “It was just a silly slip.”

He visibly relaxed. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Feeling completely flustered, and wanting to make things right, she rushed out, “Let me make it up to you.”

“You don’t—”

She raised her hand to stop him and said, “Your meal is on me.”

Once again he tensed, and it occurred to her that she’d just made slip number two. God, what was wrong with her? She caught the look in Trent’s eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing as her. Thinking about all the fun they had with food, drizzling each other with warm chocolate, or spraying each other with whip cream and languidly licking it off. Even though he hated her—the darkness in his eyes told her so—sexual tension still hung heavy. The fiery sparks arcing between them could very well set the restaurant ablaze.

“I mean…” When she caught the gleam in his eye, her voice fell off.

His mouth curved, and he leaned against the countertop. “Go on.”

Before she could answer, the bell above the door chimed and four customers walked in.

Trent straightened, and there was a hardness in his tone that wasn’t there before when he asked, “How long are you in town?”

She drew a shaky breath. “The summer.”

“That long, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m on an eight-week hiatus.”

“I guess I’ll see you around then.” With that he drove his hands deeper into his pockets and turned to go.

“What about your meal?”

“I’ll take a rain check.” He turned back to her, and warmth moved into his eyes when he said in a low voice meant for her ears only, “Oh, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to call you Katy.”

Katy’s heart raced as she stood there and watched him leave. He didn’t go straight for the door, however. Instead, he stopped at the corner booth, her granddaddy Errol’s favorite seat, and grabbed his cane. Her granddaddy must have left it there after lunch. Normally he sat with Byron and Harold, but today Byron was lunching with his grandson and Harold was home resting. Katy had enjoyed a bowl of chowder with her granddaddy on her break, and she remembered seeing the cane. She also remembered thinking it was new. He’d been walking perfectly fine for the last two days, and when she asked about it, he brushed her off. But she had to wonder why Trent was there picking it up for him. Jeez, she hoped Errol hadn’t called the fire department claiming an emergency because he’d left it behind at the restaurant. Of course, she wouldn’t put it past him.

As Katy watched Trent step through the door, taking pleasure in the sight of his perfect, firm backside, she ran through their entire encounter and wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. One second Trent seemed to hate her, the next he seemed to want her, and Katy couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything she could ever do to get him to love her again.

Desire was the first thing Trent had felt when she’d fallen into his arms.

Anger was the second.

It was the anger that had caused him to strike out at her, intending to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him. His actions were juvenile, he knew, and he was being a prick. A total fucking prick. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. The second he’d felt her body next to his, his entire being ached for her in ways that ripped a hole in his armor. But the fact that she didn’t want him the way he wanted her tore at his guts and had him acting out of character.

He’d seen the hurt in her eyes, and he hated himself for putting it there. He didn’t want to hurt Katy. It was just that when she’d left she’d taken his heart with him, and in ten long years she’d yet to bring it back.

Then she’d called him T, and every memory of their time together came crashing back. Memories of the way she felt beneath his body, the way her hands had touched him with aroused eagerness, and the way she’d called his name during lovemaking.

As the world around him tilted on its axis, it was all he could do to stop himself from bending her over the counter and taking her, hard and fast. To remind her how good they were together. How good they could still be together.

Fuck, how he wanted her. And she wanted him too.

Physically, anyway.

He felt the way her body had reacted to his touch, and the look in her eyes spoke of physical want, and goddammit, he wanted to be the guy to satiate that want. The second he caught a whiff of her sweet, honeyed scent, he ached to bury himself in her again, to kiss her mouth, her breasts, between her legs.

But the question was, would fucking her help get her out of his system once and for all, or would it shatter the last vestige of his control when she sailed out of town for another ten years?

Maybe it was time to find out.

Chapter Four

Wind whistled through the open window in Katy’s beachside rental house, and she let loose a slow, relaxing breath, thinking she’d made the right choice when she’d picked out her summer accommodations. Naturally her parents had wanted her to stay with them in their big old Victorian house, but Katy had wanted her privacy, insisting they also needed theirs.

In other words, every time she turned around she didn’t want to be bombarded with questions about work, marriage, children. Trent.

She loved her parents dearly. Working together every day was one thing, but living under the same roof with them for eight weeks was seven weeks too long.

Katy stepped up to the window and inhaled the salty sea breeze. A wave of warmth and familiarity moved through her as she hugged herself and looked out over the water. Off in the distance sail boats bobbed under the setting sun as white caps crashed against the sandy shore. Her mind drifted and she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the times she and Trent had jumped those waves as children. By mid-teens they were body surfing, and by the time they’d approached their twenties, they were running off to find a private cove where the cool spray would wash over them as they made love. The ocean was a part of her life and she missed it. She also missed making love with Trent.

Katy gulped, her smile falling from her face as she pushed away from the window. Just thinking about making love to Trent had her body reacting with urgent need. Pushing those thoughts aside and not wanting to dwell on the way she’d salivated over him earlier that day at the Seafarer, she walked through the quaint rental with its pine wood furniture, planked floors and light, ocean blue fabrics—designed to give it a seaside cottage ambiance—and focused on the new recipes she’d like to try out down at the restaurant. As her mind raced with new ideas, she stripped off her work clothes and hopped into the shower. Once clean and refreshed, and deciding that she’d be staying in for the night, she dressed in a silk nightie. With no air conditioning in the rental, she’d need something light to sleep in.

Nighttime had fallen over the fishing village as she settled into her recliner with her notepad. As she jotted down meal ideas for the restaurant, she heard a noise outside. She stiffened and glanced around, but relaxed a little when she realized she was no longer in the big city where the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. She was in Whispering Cove, where apparently the biggest crime was that she and Trent hadn’t married and produced a school of kids. Still though, that noise had startled her. She waited a moment longer to see if she could pinpoint the location, but after a few minutes of silence she passed it off as nothing. Probably just the dock creaking under the pounding waves. She went back to creating a menu plan, but when something smashed against the side of her cottage, she practically jumped out of her skin.

Katy dropped her notepad and padded softly to her door to listen. She heard something, something that sounded like shuffling, and glanced at her phone, thinking she might put a call in to Sheriff Brody McGrath. Jeez, it was so odd to think her childhood friend had become a sheriff. He’d raised more hell around town than any of them. But she didn’t want to disturb Brody. He seemed completely caught up in Andie, and they had enough on their plates right now.

She flicked her outside light on, inched her door open and peered into the night. When a cloud of smoke drifted by her face and the pungent aroma reached her nostrils, she flung her door open wider and rushed outside. She hurried around the corner of her rental and stopped short when she spotted Trent. He stood with his back to her, dousing the flames in her garbage can with a garden hose.

“Trent?” she asked hesitantly.

Startled and still holding the hose, he spun around, and Katy jumped back as he gave her an icy-cold bath.

“Oh Jesus, Katy. I’m sorry.” Trent dropped the hose and rushed to her.

Water dripped down her face, and she sputtered as she pulled her drenched nightie away from her skin. “What the hell is going on?”

“There was a fire…in…your…garbage.” His gaze kept going from the can behind him to her dripping wet nightie, which now settled nicely against her body and clung to her flesh like a second skin.

“Yeah, but why are you here?”

He grabbed his cell from his pocket, and shook it, as if that explained everything. When she continued to stare at him, he said, “I was on my way to the pub, and someone called and told me about the fire.” He jerked his thumb. “I could see the can burning from the street.”

“They called your cell? Not the department?” Beneath the exterior light, Katy scrutinized him, but that scrutiny quickly turned into a heated inspection as she took pleasure in his fine-tuned body. Her gaze flickered over his navy T-shirt and low-riding jeans that exposed tight muscles and hewn thighs—rock-hard thighs she’d love to feel wrapped around her.

Warm moisture dripped between her legs and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with getting doused by that hose. Arousal punched into her gut and her nipples tightened painfully under the sensual assault.

Trent swallowed so hard the sound carried in the still night. “Yeah, I know how it sounds…” His voice fell off, and she could only guess why. His gaze dropped to her chest, and her sex fluttered as desire flitted over his face. “I…uh…someone is toying with me, Katy. I don’t know what’s going on but I damn well plan on getting to the bottom of it.”

It took a moment for Katy to find her voice. “How is someone toying with you?”

“I put out two fires at Dresden Bluff.” He frowned, and the worry lines deepened around his mouth. “And I didn’t even know you were staying here until the phone call brought me here to the fire…to you.”

At the mention of Dresden Bluff, Katy’s mind raced and fire pitched through her body. As Trent stood before her, staring down at her with those smoldering eyes of his, she did not want to think about Dresden Bluff, all the times they’d gone there, or the intimacies they’d shared.

“Oh,” she managed to say through chattering teeth as she wrapped her arms around herself to stave off a shiver.

Trent’s expression changed to one of tenderness as he stepped close and put his hands on her arms. He rubbed quickly, creating heat with friction. His voice dropped an octave when he said, “Look at you. You’re all wet.”

Oh God, he had no idea.

“Well, you’ve got pretty good aim with your hose,” she said, then realized how sexual that sounded. Jesus, Freud would have a field day with her.

He grinned, and let his glance race over her body, which was naked and exposed through her wet nightie. He fell quiet for a moment, but she didn’t miss the want in his eyes. As a hush settled over them, they exchanged a long, heated look, one that slid through her like a warm aphrodisiac and had her thoughts careening in an erotic direction.

Sexual tension grew heavy, thicker than the fog moving in over the ocean. Trent sucked in a breath and appeared to be waging some internal war. For a brief moment, conflicting emotions flickered over his face. When she spotted something dark, something remorseful in the depths of his eyes, she wondered what he was thinking. A frown touched his forehead as his glance trailed her curves one more time.

He exhaled slowly, shook his head as if to clear it, and broke the quiet by saying, “Let’s get you inside before you catch your death of cold.”

Katy gave a breathy laugh and felt some of the tension drain. “You sound like Grandma Margaret.”

At the mention of her late grandmother, Granddaddy Errol’s wife, the lines on his forehead deepened.

“What is it?” Katy asked.

“There was just something about that person on the other end of the line. Whoever called about the fire had been disguising their voice, but there was something familiar about it.”

Katy’s head jerked back with a start. “You think it was my late grandma?” She stared at him and wondered what he’d been smoking. Or worse, maybe he’d inhaled too much creosote over the years and the extended exposure was slowly killing off brain cells.

Trent laughed. “No, I don’t. It’s just that sometimes Errol rolls his Rs. So did the caller.”

She crinkled her nose. “You think Granddaddy started the fire? Why would he do something like that?”

She took a moment to think about Granddaddy Errol and her heart lurched. He’d aged so much over the last few years, especially since he’d lost Grandma Margaret. His cloudy blue eyes had lost some of the shine except, Katy noticed, when they met hers. Since she’d come home, the wicked gleam that spoke of love and life had returned. She pushed back the guilt. God, she hadn’t meant to hurt her granddaddy when she’d left, and knew how much he wanted her to return home and have a family of her own, one that he could enjoy and watch over.