Kathleen Creighton - The Seduction of Goody Two-Shoes

He paused and looked back at her long enough to bark, “What? Are you coming or not?”

“Coming!” she snapped back. Dammit, there was no way she was young enough to be this man’s daughter-and she was furious with him for making her feel as if she was. With that in mind she took a deep breath and fought down her temper. “Excuse me,” she said with what sounded to her like simpering politeness, “but I have to tell the captain I’m leaving the ship. And I’ll need to get my stuff.”

He took a few steps back toward her, warily, as if approaching a possibly dangerous animal. “Why? I told you-we don’t have to leave until tomorrow.” She didn’t say anything, just looked at him. Realization came to him a moment later, and he halted, teeth bared in a sardonic smile. “Ah. I see. You really don’t trust me, do you?” He ambled toward her, still smiling, arms folded across his chest. “Kind of got you on the horns of a dilemma, hasn’t it, sister? Don’t trust me enough to come home with me, but don’t trust me enough to let me out of your sight, either.” He made a brief, tsking sound. “Must be tough, being so suspicious all the time.”

She held her ground as he came closer, though her heartbeat seemed to accelerate with every step he took. When he came to a stop in front of her, folded arms almost brushing her chest, she felt as if she were standing on a moving boat, as if the pier under her feet were rocking with the force of her own pulse. Her eyes were on a level with his beard-stubbled chin. Gray stubble mixed with reddish brown. Hurriedly, she dropped her gaze-and saw dense, sun-bronzed skin, sun-bleached hair nestled in the deep V of a tropical-print shirt. Were there a few gray hairs mixed in? She caught a quick breath. Oh, good grief…

“I’m going to tell you something,” he said in a soft-rough growl that seemed to resonate in her very bones. “And listen carefully, because I’m only gonna say it once. I don’t like to let it get around too much. I do have a reputation to think about. However. In my own way, I am a man of honor. There are certain rules for living that, for completely selfish reasons, I try never to break. You, sister, are a married woman. I make it a point never to mess around with other men’s wives, for the same reason I make it a point never to cheat at cards. Saves me having to watch my back all the time. See, I’m a live-and-let-live kind of guy. No hassles-that’s my motto.

“Oh-and one other thing. I am also a man of my word. I told you I’d go with you to meet these…guys. We shook hands on it. I don’t go back on my handshake.”

Incomprehensibly rattled, Ellie sucked in a breath and retorted, “Yes, well, unfortunately, I have only your word for that.”

She was even more unnerved when he threw back his head and laughed. So unnerved that her gaze jerked upward and collided with his. And-oh, Lord, why did she keep forgetting how blue his eyes were? How clear and clean and… honest? And right now, bright with amusement.

“I guess you’re right about that,” he said, still softly chuckling.

And Ellie, still in thrall of those eyes, heard herself murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey-if you were my daughter, I’d probably be the first one to tell you not to trust me. I think.” He seemed to think about that, then shrugged it off. “So, what’s it gonna be? Coming or staying?”

“Both,” Ellie said firmly, having just at that very moment made up her mind. “Coming with you and staying with you. But I still have to get my stuff.”

“Where you gonna put it? On the roof? My car’s full up, if you remember. And,” he added darkly, “I’m not sacrificing any more paintings for you, lady. At the rate my stock is being depleted, if I hang around with you much longer I’m going to be out of business. We’ll go and unload first, have some lunch and take a look at those directions. Check out a map. Then I’ll bring you back here so you can check out of your floating hotel. How’s that?”

“Fine,” said Ellie meekly. She was wondering what her parents would think of their nice level-headed daughter if they knew she was about to go home with a beach bum she’d only just met.

McCall’s house was a surprise to Ellie. She’d imagined him living in a rickety beach shack with palm thatch on the roof and no glass in the windows. Instead, his house sat on a small cliff just outside of town, reached by wooden stairs that scaled the cliff in a series of short zigzags, and while it was slightly rickety and did have a thatched roof, it was much too substantial ever to be called a shack. Made of stone covered with dingy white plaster, it rather reminded Ellie of a sulky seagull squatting on a pile of rocks.

On the other hand, she thought, in a way it was just like him-scruffy and eccentric, but with a certain rakish charm.

Rakish charm? She sucked in a breath as somewhere in the back of her mind alarms began beeping a steady warning, like the monitors in an ICU. Not the ones that bring the crash cart at a dead run, more like the ones that cause the nurses on duty to glance up, maybe come over and make a few minor adjustments, then go on about their business. Nothing to worry about, not yet, the alarms said. Just be on the alert.

McCall parked the VW on a widened-out spot on the dirt road, close to the side of the cliff near the base of the steps.

“Do you mind taking a load up now?” he asked as he got out of the car, pocketing his keys, and began pulling canvasses out of the back seat. “Saves a trip.”

“Sure.” Already out of the car herself, Ellie folded her seat forward and began tugging on canvasses.

“Here, take these.” He dumped his own load into her outstretched arms. “I’ve got a system. Go on up-it’s unlocked. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Right,” said Ellie as she cast a dubious look upward.

But the steps were neither as steep nor as rickety as they looked, and she arrived at the top safely and only slightly winded. The steps ended at a flagstone pathway, flanked by bird-of-paradise and lily-of-the-Nile and some drought-resistant succulents, which led to a wide three-arched veranda. The veranda was the same stone and plaster as the house itself, with the same type of thatched roof, and a floor made of flagstone, like the path. Unexpectedly enchanted, Ellie paused in its deep shade to look out on the view of thatched roofs, palm trees, and pale aqua-blue water. Clouds were building along the horizon, where a line of ultramarine marked the beginning of deep water, like a line drawn with a dark blue Magic Marker.

“Nice view,” she said to McCall, who was just then stepping onto the flagstone pathway, canvasses tucked under both arms.

It occurred to her that in spite of being a fairly heavy smoker, he seemed to be in good physical condition. Certainly no more out of breath after that climb than she was. She told herself that was a good thing to know, given the fact that he was going to be her temporary partner in what could very well be a dangerous assignment. She told herself that was the only reason she’d noticed.

“Hadn’t noticed,” McCall grunted, in response to her comment. But he gave her a look as he passed her, and even in the veranda’s deep shadows she could see the bright blue gleam of irony in his eyes.

McCall held his body rigid and hoped she wouldn’t hear his heart beating as he reached past her to open the heavy wooden door, then waited for her to enter his house ahead of him. He held his breath, too, but it didn’t help much; it seemed her orange-blossom scent was already in his senses to stay. He wondered if he’d absorbed it through his pores.

She gave him back the look as she stepped carefully around him, the same amused, sardonic one he’d given her. “You don’t lock your door?”