Wicked: Whispering Cove, Book 3 (6 page)

“Gee. That’s sexy.” Her pussy spasmed around him.

“Maybe the image isn’t, but your responses are.” Grinning, he crossed his legs beneath her ass and stood. “The journey certainly will be.”

Walking as if he owned her and her house, he carried her inside and headed upstairs. Each step drove his cock against her G-spot, rubbed her clit. Each step incited the barely cooled desire raging in her body.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To make sure you think of me when you pace your widow’s walk from now on.”

“Oh.”
Holy damn.
He knew she’d watched him. Those times he’d turned her way and she’d imagined him looking at her—he had.

If she’d hoped to walk away unscathed it was too late. He was her heart’s master.

Chapter Four

The woman was temptation.

Scrubbing the stubble on his chin, Braydon turned away from the late night/early morning view of the bay. The moon’s illumination landed on her lavender sheet as the light cover rose and fell, shimmering with glints of silver satin, as Danica’s chest rose and fell.

The curve of her breast peeking above the sheet tempted him.

The expanse of her leg sticking out the side and showing off her powerful thighs tempted him.

Even her petite snore tempted him.

In the moonlight, with the glasses lying abandoned on the bedside table instead of perched on her delicate nose, she was neither awkward girl nor confident doctor. Stripped of her glasses and clothes, she turned into a seductress.

Compelled, Braydon moved to the bed’s side and brushed a sweep of hair away from her eye. She shifted her head against the pillow and sighed as a soft smile stole across her lips that were still swollen from exploring his body. The wicked lips she’d wrapped around him.

His cock hardened at the thought, and at the idea of crawling beneath the sheet to wake beside her. Sleeping with women wasn’t something he did, yet with Danica the idea held too much appeal.

The clock read one a.m. He’d promised to have breakfast with Granddad in the morning, so he should get to bed. Sleep wouldn’t come. Only dreams of Danica Kent would come, just as they had the night before. Tonight would likely be worse, because tonight he’d gotten a stronger taste of her lures.

He shook his head and went after his clothes. He couldn’t go home, but he couldn’t stay with her. He sure as hell wouldn’t go to Granddad’s and risk an inquisition. That left the Seaside Pub where someone would be up for a beer or game of pool. Anything to keep him from thinking of the delectable doc.

On the way to reclaim his clothes, Braydon paused by a hallway table with a stack of the magazines he wrote for. They each looked as if they’d been read and re-read several times, and damn if pride and pleasure didn’t swell inside. Smiling, he detoured to look at the family photos with Danica. Maybe it was a result of knowing the present day Danica, but in every picture of an awkward girl, he saw her beauty. Her spirit.

He wished he’d gotten to know her long ago.

He was halfway back up the stairs before he stopped himself. Snuggling up to Danica wasn’t safe. She wasn’t his style, or rather her permanence wasn’t, so he shook off the sentimentality and turned back downstairs.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the Seaside Pub. With its back wall of shutter doors open and offering an unobstructed view of the bay, the dark wood floors and teak bar with the brass foot rail before the backless wooden stools, the place was masculine.

Softer touches were added in the buttercream-colored paint—which reminded Braydon of the icing Grandma Ruth used to put on his birthday cakes—covering the top half of the paneled walls and muted lighting to set a romantic mood. If romance could be found in a beer-scented place with scarred tables and red-and-green dome lights dangling over the pool tables.

Apparently it could after the noise died down. A few couples snuggled in cozy corners wrapped in the solitude of companionship. He’d been cozy in Danica’s bed. Could still be.

“Well hell!” Hauk Michaelsen tossed a rag in the bar sink and grinned. “If it isn’t Sail-away Mitchell. Wondered if you’d show your face here.”

Hauk’d never been to Norway for more than brief visits to his grandparents, aunts and uncles, but the dialect of the cities lived rich in his voice.

“Well, if it isn’t Landlocked Michaelsen.” Grateful for a new train of thought, Braydon crossed to the bar and clasped Hauk’s hand. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old routine.” His grin hadn’t changed since high school. Broad and warm, showing off the chipped tooth he’d gotten from an out-of-bounds ball and a wayward elbow during a junior varsity game. They’d both gotten better at football.

“Don’t you get tired of the same thing day in and day out?” Braydon slipped onto the nearest stool.

Hauk poured him a beer and leaned on the counter. “Don’t you get tired of being alone on that boat of yours?”

“Who said I was alone?”

“The entire town. Well, at least those not talking about you and the lovely Dr. Dani.”

What could people be saying? They’d only been in public for the lunch with Granddad. Everything else had been private. Well, mostly everything. He had been ready to strip her above deck on the boat.

“There’s nothing between us.” Braydon worked the angered lie from his tone. “She’s Granddad’s doctor.”

Hauk leaned closer and gave an exaggerated bloodhound sniff around Braydon. “Try that bullshit when you don’t smell like her.”

The appreciation and familiarity slurring Hauk’s voice drilled through Braydon and had his fists clenching. “You don’t know shit. She’s Granddad’s doctor.”

He repeated the last bit slowly, hoping it would penetrate the layer of beer foam clouding Hauk’s brain. Still, questions nagged.

How did Hauk know Danica’s scent so well? How familiar were they? And damn it, why should he care?

“She may be your granddad’s doc, but that doesn’t make men blind to her any more than you can claim women don’t pursue you because of your no-roots life.”

Braydon shrugged. “I like my life. Have no interest in being stuck in a go-nowhere town with no ambition and kids to support.”

Hauk’s eyes narrowed to sharp pricks. Defensiveness hardened his jaw and would no doubt snap in his tone. Braydon knew he’d misstepped.

He’d just described the life Hauk had always wanted to avoid. The life people said he’d been unable to escape.

“There are worse things than raising a kid in this town. And ambition is different for everyone.”

Yep. Hauk’s tone was clipped and void of the camaraderie they’d been sharing.

“Shit. Hauk. I didn’t mean… Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Everyone remotely connected to Whispering Cove had heard about Hauk’s wife washing ashore with a note in her pocket detailing her life’s regrets. She’d never gotten the escape she wanted, but she’d compounded her impact by voicing her regrets at having married Hauk right out of school and having their daughter.

“She was wrong, Hauk.”

“And so are you. A good life balanced with family and ambitions are attainable here.” Hauk walked away and left Braydon with the thought that Hauk had accepted
good
. Then again, Braydon reluctantly admitted to himself, his perception of a Whispering Cove life, of Hauk, could be skewed.

Several of their classmates seemed perfectly happy with the lives they’d created in Whispering Cove. Many were as successful in different careers as Braydon was in his. So what was his hang-up?

Simple. It was fear. Fear of regretting life choices like his parents had.

Braydon’s spine itched with the uncomfortable truth. He washed it away with a long draw of his beer. He wasn’t thinking about what he was afraid of—
Danica
, a taunting voice in his head whispered.

No. He couldn’t possibly be afraid of Danica Kent or the impossible idea of them having a
real
relationship.

“Does Dad know you’re taking me on a house call?”

“Are you kidding?” Danica wrapped her arm around Sophie Michaelsen’s shoulders and pulled her close. “This is part of our plan. His to see you succeed. Mine to have you working with me one day.”

Sophie’s reddish brown, curly ponytail dipped and swayed as she angled her head from side-to-side. “Would you really want me to work with you?”

Vulnerability hazed the young girl’s voice as her eyes swam with doubt. Only Hauk’s love had been a certainty in Sophie’s life, because as much as she struggled to appear unaffected by her mother’s suicide, it had blown a hole of insecurity into the girl’s heart. A hole Danica wanted to see healed.

Danica stopped on the lower step leading to the porch and turned Sophie to face her straight on. “I would love to work with you one day. You have a gentle touch. You care about people and want to help in any way you can.”

“You think I’d be a good nurse?”

“Yes. Or a doctor.”

“No. Medical school is too expensive.” Sophie dropped her chin. “Dad couldn’t afford it.”

Danica lifted Sophie’s chin. “There are scholarships, grants and financial aid. If medical school is what you decide you want, your dad will find a way to make it happen.”
Even if I pay part of the way.

She couldn’t watch another dream wither. “Now, let’s go check on Byron.”

Like everyone did when visiting Byron, Danica rapped once on the screen door frame before going inside. “Byron,” she called, “I brought my new physician’s assistant.”

A rapid shuffling, clinking bottles and a muffled curse came from the kitchen at the back of the house. “Back here, chickadee.”

Suspicion narrowed Danica’s eyes at the weakness compromising Byron’s words. She and Sophie walked through the cheerful home filled with family photos and ivory doilies to match the window sheers. She’d felt at home her first visit, and the feeling grew with each successive one. Her grandparents were gone, but getting to know Byron and Ruth had filled the missing gap.

“Do me a favor.” Danica leaned close to Sophie and whispered, “When we get in there, be a nosy kid. I want to know what he’s up to back there.”

Sophie smiled a mischievous smile that said she knew just what to look for—she did live over a bar after all—and followed.

Panting and bracing his forearms on the table, Byron lifted a gnarled hand in a wave. His arm shook to his shoulder before he dropped the limb back on the table. “That’s a might lovely PA you’ve gone and hired, Dr. Dani.”

“Yes.” Danica winked at Sophie.

While Danica set to taking Byron’s vitals, Sophie opened a few cabinets before pulling out an open bottle of rum and a half full drink glass.

“Nosy kids.” Byron feigned shock. “No respect for boundaries no more.”

Fondness for Sophie lightened his tone so no one took his complaining seriously. The grizzled man loved the young girl like she was his own, even if he didn’t say it. Danica had gotten the impression he felt the same way for most everyone in his town.

“She’s a tremendous help and you shouldn’t be drinking until we find out what’s going on. How are you feeling?”

“Bullshit.” His cheeks reddened and he looked sheepishly at Sophie. “Sorry, chickadee. I feel old,” he shot at Danica.

“I’ve heard it before,” Sophie said.

“You aren’t as young as your grandson. Stop trying to act as if you are.” Danica smiled. “Where’s Ruth?”

“Quilting group.”

“She’s a busy woman.”

“Keeps her from naggin’ at me.”

“Well.” Danica pointed at the rum. “Maybe if she nagged you more you’d stop overdoing it. And stop sneaking around with the alcohol.”

“You’re wasting your breath.” Braydon’s voice—warm and sexy—swept across her like his caresses from the night before.

Sophie’s mouth gaped as her ten-year-old heart no doubt slammed against her ribs with an excited crush. It was a feeling Danica remembered well, because her heart still leapt with excitement when Braydon Mitchell walked in the room. Just as it had all those years ago when she’d first noticed him.

“Granddad’s never been one to follow expectations.”

“Unlike his grandson, whose picture could replace Webster’s definition of predictable.” Danica’s jaw clenched. She shook off the past and entered notes into Byron’s chart in her iPad.

“Look in the mirror for predictability, Doc.” Braydon leaned against the counter beside Sophie. His long and lean fingers slid back and forth at the fold of his elbow. Stroking. Gliding.

Danica’s skin heated. “You know nothing about me.”

“Really?” His grin lifted his eyebrows, scrunching up the cut on his forehead. “Is that an argument you think you’ll win?”

Braydon winked at Sophie, and the girl’s face turned to mush. He didn’t even realize what he was doing, which only made it worse.

“Sophie.” Danica addressed the girl and gathered her stuff. “Let’s go.” She patted Byron on the shoulder. “You need to slow down and listen to Ruth’s nagging. I’m tired of seeing my favorite patients in the hospital.”

“So that’s your answer.” Braydon trailed her down the hall toward the living room.