Sandra Field - Seducing Nell

“It’s nearly six. I have to get groceries and I need to get settled in.”

“You sure are stubborn. How long are you staying here?”

She wasn’t going to tell him about Mort Harbour. “Oh, a day or so,” she said vaguely.

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to see me again—that’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it?”

If she was to borrow one of his favorite words and tell the absolute truth at the same time, she would say that he scared the hell out of her. “I don’t know why you’re so angry,” she said. “We met by chance, I don’t know the first thing about you, and now we’re going our separate ways. No big deal.”

And whom are you trying to convince, Nell? she mocked silently. Kyle or yourself?

He pulled up in front of the grocery store, his tires skidding in the gravel. Banging the ball of his hand against the wheel, he said, “Is that what you want? That we never see each other again?”

What she wanted was to be transported miraculously into her unknown grandfather’s living room in Mort Harbour. Into his living room and into his heart, she thought painfully. That was her priority; after all, hadn’t she traveled thousands of miles and used up all her savings just to come face—to—face with Conrad Gillis? So the time wasn’t right for any other emotional complications. And if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Kyle Marshall could very easily become a major complication.

If he hasn’t already, a little voice whispered in her brain.

“That’s what I want,” she said steadily.

He undid his seat belt and twisted so he could look right at her. His expression was unreadable. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “Absolutely right. I’m too old to be blathering on about eyes like flowers and hair like spun copper—and you’re much too sensible and levelheaded to read anything into a chance meeting on the barrens. Besides, you must be used to more sophisticated men than me. You did mention multinational corporations, didn’t you? I’m sure if you can swear in five languages, you’ve done other things in five languages, too.” He gave her a smile that was nothing but a movement of his lips. “Goodbye, Nell. The next time I need a good swearword, I’ll think of you.”

Before she could guess his intention, he leaned over, gripped her by the shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth.

His face had swooped down on hers, and there was no tenderness in the pressure of his lips. He’s like the eagle, Nell thought dizzily. A predator…and then she stopped thinking altogether. Because while Kyle might have begun the kiss from some male need to assert his will, he didn’t stay in that place for long. One of his hands buried itself in the soft mass of her hair; the other cupped her cheek, smoothing the line of her jaw. From a long way away, she heard him mutter something against her mouth. Then his lips were stroking hers, back and forth, again and again, with an exquisite gentleness that made nonsense of all her mother’s strictures.

She felt as flushed as the laurel, as free as the eagle. She felt as she’d never before felt with a man: as though she was most truly herself. With a moan of sheer pleasure, Nell wrapped her arms around Kyle’s ribs and kissed him back. His hand left her cheek to pull her closer to his body, and he deepened his kiss with a fierceness she more than matched.

A piercing whistle split the air.

Wrenched from a place that was as new to her as the barrens and more beautiful by far, Nell opened her eyes. Kyle pulled his mouth free. They both looked around.

They had gathered an audience. A teenage boy produced another earsplitting whistle, his female companions giggled, and from the window of his disreputable old truck, now parked beside them, Wendell was grinning at them. As she gaped at him, he gave her a thumbs—up signal. If she hadn’t even heard Wendell’s truck pull up, Nell considered ruefully, she was really in a bad way. Then she began to giggle helplessly herself as Kyle me—thodically went through every single word she had taught him on the drive to Caplin Bay.

She laughed until she was in tears; she laughed until her ribs hurt; and she laughed all the harder as Kyle’s affronted stare gave way first to a wry grin, then to a deep belly laugh of his own. “You do realize,” she gasped, “that I now have to walk into that store and buy hamburger and dish detergent? Even the girls at the cash register were staring at us.”

“Good,” said Kyle.

“You’ve ruined my reputation in Caplin Bay and all you can say is good?”

“Yep. I haven’t had so much fun in a dog’s age.”

Neither, if truth were told, had she. She said severely, “Unlock the back hatch, Kyle. I’ve got to get my gear out”

“Want to change your mind?” he said. “Supper at the takeout and a night at the bed—and—breakfast? Best offer you’ll get all day.”

The reckless gleam in his eyes was beguiling, and even to contemplate a night at the bed—and—breakfast with Kyle set Nell’s heart racing. She said, “Are you kidding? After that kiss? When I’m so sensible and levelheaded?”

“You didn’t like my calling you that?”

“I hated it,” she said pithily. “Coming to Newfoundland is the most irresponsible and crazy thing I’ve done in my entire life. Push that button thing that unlocks the hatch, Kyle.”

“Is the old guy in the truck another of your conquests?”

“He drove me to the barrens and I don’t have any conquests. Goodbye, Kyle.”

“He and I will have to exchange notes,” Kyle said, pushing the knob by the dash that released the hatch. “I bet he knows a swearword or two. Goodbye, Petronella Cornelia Vandermeer.”

Somehow she hadn’t expected him to let her go without more of a struggle. Without another of those devastating kisses? Is that what you wanted, Nell Vandermeer? Feeling thoroughly out of sorts, she scrambled to the ground, gave herself the satisfaction of slamming the door as loudly as she could and got her pack out of the van. Easing it onto her back, she marched straight through the group of teenagers, daring them to say anything.

Wendell was lounging against the doorway to the grocery store. “Didn’t take you long to find yourself another drive,” he cackled.

“He’s not half as cute as you,” she responded amiably, and pushed open the door.

She bought a minimum of groceries, and when she went back outside there was no sign of either Wendell or Kyle. She trudged along the road toward the headland and, with the ease of practice, found a campsite among the trees just up from the beach, then made her supper over her little one—burner stove. The sun had already sunk behind the point. The sea was lacquered in apricot and gold; seagulls drifted lazily homeward. The little cluster of houses looked very peaceful.

Nell herself didn’t feel at all peaceful. Her vision was sharp enough to have picked out the blue sign in front of a bungalow on the hillside: the bed—and—breakfast where Kyle was staying. She didn’t want to think about Kyle. She didn’t want to think about Mort Harbour, either. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up in the morning to a whole new day.

There should have been nothing especially difficult about that plan. But although Nell curled up in her sleeping bag inside her tiny yellow tent as soon as it was dark, it took her a long time to fall asleep.

* * *

Wendell’s truck was roaring right in her ear. Roaring as loudly as if the accelerator were stuck.

With a gasp of dismay, Nell sat bolt upright, her head skimming the slanted roof of the tent. The roaring was real, not part of a dream. All too real. So were the yelling and the snatches of song, the beams of light piercing the walls of the tent then vanishing, the flicker of flames through the thin yellow fabric.