Authors: Cheryl Gorman
The
feel of those pretty, round breasts floated through his brain, along with the
flavor of her mouth and tongue. He remembered every single moment of the time
they’d spent together, just a few hours earlier in her bedroom. What a paradox,
buttoned up like a nun while her hips undulated like Salome.
Abby
had bundled her hair up into a clip on the back of her head, exposing her slim,
white neck to him. The texture and flavor of a neck he knew intimately. Devlin
opened the door wide enough so he could slip through, closing the door quietly
at his back. Enjoying the show, he crossed his arms over his chest and couldn’t
have stopped the grin of appreciation if he’d tried.
He
fantasized for a moment about Abby wearing one of those
I Dream of Jeannie
outfits made of sheer material and sequins, with lots of skin and a generous
amount of cleavage showing. Complete with toe ring and ankle bracelet.
A
private dance for his pleasure alone.
The
cadence of the music pulsed faster and faster; the sound of the horns swelled
higher, their tone growing sharper by the second. Abby turned slowly in a
circle, her hips gyrating to the swift tempo, her feet shuffling to the flow of
the lavish notes. With each rise in the pitch of the music, Abby thrust her
pelvis forward then backward, with increasing ripples and rolls. Desire stroked
his nerve endings and warmed the pit of his stomach. He wanted to know the heat
of her between those sexy legs.
A
look of naked joy and intense pleasure covered her face as she let the swirling
frenzy of sound sweep her away. The music, blaring from the portable stereo,
finally reached a crescendo, then suddenly stopped.
For
a moment, Abby remained perfectly still. A light sheen of sweat beaded her
forehead, and her chest heaved in rapid breaths. Devlin watched a smile shimmer
over her lips before her eyes drifted open.
Their
gazes locked, and her violet eyes widened with shock. Her mouth formed a
perfect O. She jerked her arms down to her sides as a hot blush burned up her
neck and spread red streaks over her face. “How long have you been standing
there?”
Devlin
raised a brow and smiled. “Long enough. Morning.”
She
stuffed her feet back into her shoes and cocked her head in his direction. “Why
didn’t you say something?”
Devlin
leaned against the dark granite counter and stuffed his hands into the back
pockets of his jeans. “And stop the performance? No way. It’s not every day a
man gets to see a woman jiggle her fanny in a sexy dance before breakfast.”
She
raised a nervous hand and smoothed back a stray tendril of hair that had fallen
from her hair clip. The blush of color still brightened her pale skin, and he
could see the tension in the rigid set of her shoulders.
He
watched her lick her lips and swallow, trying desperately to pull herself
together. Abby had been together since he met her. About time she loosened up.
“How long have you been belly-dancing?”
Murmuring
absently over her shoulder, “A couple of years,” Abby headed for the coffee
pot.
Devlin
glided down the edge of the counter until he stood next to her. The aroma of
soap and woman slid past his nose but failed to smother the emotional warmth
that emanated from her. Her warmth settled the uneasiness that continuously
hammered at his soul. “Did you take lessons, or learn from a videotape?”
She
straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I took lessons.”
“Have
you got one of those little harem outfits, or do you always practice in your
regular clothes?”
She
threw him a sharp look. “No, I don’t have a harem outfit.” Sarcasm ripened her
voice. “No one was around, and I thought --” She bunched her hands into
fists. “It was rude not to speak up.”
“You’re
just angry because I’ve discovered your little secret.” Devlin grinned. “I
would never have pegged you for a belly-dancer, Abigail.”
She
sucked her lower lip into her mouth, then let it slide out all wet and dewy. “I
belly-dance strictly for the cardiovascular benefits. I saw this belly-dancing
class advertised as the next generation of Jazzercise.” He liked her precise,
matter-of-fact tone.
“Is
that so?”
She
raised her chin and looked at him. “I’m hoping you’ll forget about this and
pretend it never happened.”
The
way those simple words fell from her tongue in that precise British accent of
hers burrowed deeper under his skin. “Not a chance. Sleep well?”
Abby
reached for one of the large blue mugs Otis had placed on the counter. She
turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder, relief shining in her
eyes that he’d changed the subject. “Very well, thank you. You?”
“No,
I didn’t. I don’t think you did, either.”
Abby
poured herself a cup of coffee, stirred in a spoonful of sugar, and added a
dollop of milk before she turned around. She leaned against the counter, took a
sip, and eyed him over the rim. “Odd choice of words, considering we didn’t
sleep in the same room together.
An
unexpected image of Abby lying naked in his arms in the center of his bed
flashed like a freaking neon sign into his brain. Devlin laughed and shook his
head. After witnessing her very sensual dance, he wanted to let go and ease the
aching sexual need that rode him every minute they spent together. Only, he was
afraid his unwanted need for her went way beyond sex.
Something
else about Abby nudged at him, something he didn’t want to uncover and look at
with his heart. Something he had to fight down to the rough edges of his soul,
especially with the delay in her departure due to the storm.
To
keep from reaching for her, Devlin paced over to the kitchen table, pulled out
a chair, and sat down. “I just got off the phone with the ferryboat captain.
They aren’t making any runs to the mainland today, so you can’t leave. You’ll
have to wait until tomorrow.”
She
set her mug down on the counter. “Great, it will give me a chance to talk to
the locals about Miranda and see if they’re interested in a website.”
He
slid his gaze to the rounded neck of her shirt, to the sweet, sensitive hollow
he’d kissed. She was like a pristine package wrapped up snug and warm, one he
wanted to peel open and spoil. Devlin shifted his gaze back to hers.
The
kitchen door breezed open, and Otis stepped inside, along with the sheriff and
a petite woman with auburn hair, dressed in a police uniform. Otis slipped off
his long brown oilcloth coat and hung it by the door.
Devlin
rose from the chair to shake the sheriff’s hand. “Morning, Jake.” He’d be glad
when he could meet Jake on a purely social level.
Jake
introduced the policewoman as Beth Lowell, and Devlin offered them both coffee.
Otis ran his hand over the thatch of gray hair on his head, scattering
raindrops. His black eyes fixed on Devlin and Abby. “Guess you waitin’ on breakfast.”
He gestured with his right hand. “Sit down. I’ll have some French toast ready
directly.”
“Thank
you, Otis.” Abby set her mug of coffee on the counter. “Would you like some
help?”
“Sure,
you can mix the eggs.” Otis looked at Devlin. “What about you, Mr. Dev?”
“I
can never pass up your French toast, Otis.” His empty stomach rumbled. He
looked at Abby. “I need to speak with Jake and Officer Lowell. We’ll be right
back.”
·
* * * *
Devlin
ushered Jake and the policewoman down the hall to his office. In the hallway,
he heard Abby’s laughter drift down from the kitchen. He liked hearing her
laugh. Seeing her afraid last night, the worry clouding her eyes, made him sick
to his stomach. This had to end. Soon.
Jake
took a seat in front of Devlin’s desk, and Officer Lowell sat in a chair next
to him. She was a slip of a woman, probably not an inch above five feet. How
could she possibly help capture a big, strong madman?
“Dev.”
Jake motioned to the officer. “Officer Lowell and I have come up with a plan to
capture him once and for all. We think it has a good chance of success. Go
ahead, Beth. I’ll let you explain.”
Devlin
looked at Officer Lowell. She regarded him with quiet gray eyes. Her features
were delicate, her skin fair. “Mr. Morgan, I obtained some photos of your
mother from when she lived on the island. I brought some clothes similar to the
ones she wore in the pictures.” She paused for a moment, as if letting her
words sink in.
Devlin
nodded for her to continue.
“I
plan to dress in these clothes, walk through the village, up the castle road,
and onto the castle grounds. If he has indeed come back to the island, we’re
hoping he’ll see me and think I’m your mother, returned to Wolf Island. And
maybe he’ll make a move.”
Devlin
shuddered inside. “Officer, I mean no disrespect, but you’re a small woman,
even if you are a trained police officer. What kind of defense could you
possibly use again him? You could get hurt or possibly killed!”
Jake
held up his hand. “I understand your misgivings, Dev, but Officer Lowell will
have backup. I’ll have several deputies and officers stationed at various
points in the village, along the castle road, and on the grounds. I won’t be
far away myself. If he shows himself, we’ll be on the bastard.”
Devlin
rose, placed his palms on the desk’s surface, and moved his gaze from Jake to
Officer Lowell and back again. “You don’t have a clue who you’re dealing with
here. Victor Morgan is a paranoid schizophrenic. He’s not only delusional, but
his level of strength is abnormal, especially when the voices scream louder in
his head.” He leveled his gaze at Officer Lowell. “He’s fast as hell, Officer.
You could be dead before anyone reaches you.”
Jake
shook his head. “I promise that won’t happen. Besides, Beth is a trained police
officer, Dev. This is her job.”
Devlin
straightened and glared at the sheriff. “Dammit, Jake, you don’t get it, do
you? If there’s a screw up and she dies --” He pointed a finger at Officer
Lowell. “-- guess who gets blamed? Me! Victor’s on this island because of
me. In case you’ve forgotten, the bastard wants me dead.”
“Mr.
Morgan,” Officer Lowell leaned forward in her chair, “I’ve had a great deal of
training in hand-to-hand. In addition, I’ll be carrying one of the most
effective self-defense devices used by law enforcement agencies around the
country.” She laid a small object on top of his desk. It looked similar to a
gun and was slightly larger than a cell phone. The square shape of the barrel did
not look like a firearm, though. “This weapon is called a Taser. It might not
look like much, but believe me, it
will
bring Victor down. When fired,
the Taser releases probes connected by thin, insulated wire. When they make
contact with a body or clothing, the perpetrator loses neuromuscular control
and collapses.”
“I
still don’t like it.” Devlin shook his head. “Sounds like you have to get
pretty darn close for that thing to work. What if Victor knocks it out of your
hand? What if he catches you from behind?”
“There’s
one other thing that might help ease your mind. Before the probes reach the
attacker, an electrical pulse interferes with communication between the brain
and the muscles. You’ve got to trust me about this, Mr. Morgan, and let me do
my job.”
She
was obviously full of confidence now, but how would she feel if and when she
faced Victor?
“Dev.”
Jake drew his attention back to him. “I’m a cautious man. I wouldn’t put an
officer’s life in jeopardy if I didn’t believe this plan had a damn good chance
of succeeding.”
Dev
rubbed the back of his neck. “Your plan has disaster written all over it. I can
tell by the look on your face that you’re determined to go through with it, no
matter what I think. But Jake, the stakes are even higher now. The bastard got
inside the castle last night. He left me a calling card in the library ...
a rabbit with a set of chimes twisted around its neck.” Devlin heaved a heavy
sigh. “Everything was locked up tighter than a convent around here. I checked
every door and window myself after I found the gull.”
Jake
studied him. “Have the locks ever been changed? Victor is cagey; he’s clever.”
His words were slow and deliberate. “Could he have gotten a key and hidden it
somewhere on the island? The guy’s so paranoid, he could have hidden one, or
more, years ago.”
“I
don’t think so. I could ask my grandparents, but if they get wind of the
trouble around here, they’ll hot foot it back to the island. No way am I
putting them in danger, as well. I’ll have Otis call the locksmith and have all
the door locks changed ASAP.
Jake
nodded. “It can’t hurt. If that’s how he’s getting in, it’ll at least slow him
down a bit and make it harder for him to gain access. I think we’ve covered
everything we need to, Dev. I’ll keep you informed on how it goes.”
Devlin
let Jake and Officer Lowell out the front door. When he closed the door behind
them, he heard a rustle at his back and turned. Abby stood in the foyer,
adjusting her purse strap over her shoulder with one hand and gripping an
umbrella with the other. “Where do you think you’re going?” Devlin listened to
the rain hammering against the roof of the castle. She’d be soaked before she
made it to her car.