Читать книгу Taken Beyond Temptation - Cara Summers - Страница 10

AS JILLIAN STEPPED OUT of the law offices of Bisson and Tanner, she barely restrained herself from doing a happy dance right there on the sidewalk. Ever since she’d decided that interior design was where her true talents lay, she’d been dreaming of eventually opening her own store. But it hadn’t been until she and her sisters had bought Haworth House and turned it into a hotel that she’d started to believe she could turn her particular dream into a reality.

Oh, she knew she was taking a risk—starting a new business venture so soon after opening the hotel. But once she’d seen the Kellys’ bookstore on Main Street and discovered that it was available, she simply hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to buy it ahead of schedule. A whole two years ahead of schedule.

Walking to the edge of the sidewalk, she glanced up and down the main street of the small village that was becoming so familiar to her. The sharp, sudden blast of the ferry’s horn had her turning right to watch it pull away from the dock. Brightly colored umbrellas adorned the patio of a restaurant close to the water. Across the street from where she stood was the crowded coffee shop, Uncommon Grounds, with its green-and-white-striped awnings. In the block up from that was a gift shop and a bank, and directly across from the real estate office was what was going to be her new antique store.

Just thinking about it had her heart skipping a beat. The key in her hand and the papers she’d just signed in Myron Bisson’s office had made it really hers.

The Kellys, a couple in their seventies, had run a bookstore there for over forty years, but they’d wanted to have more time to visit grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Right now they were in Ireland doing just that. They’d signed the papers before they’d left, and the key had just been waiting for her.

Opening her fist, Jillian stared down at it. Risk taking was not new to her. And she’d paid the price for her tendency to rush into things. But convincing her sisters to buy Haworth House had paid off, and she just had a feeling she was on a roll.

This time she gave in to the impulse to do a little happy dance. A part of her wanted to run up the street, open the door of the old bookstore and just look at the place that was now hers.

Another part of her wanted to share the good news with someone. She could call Avery, of course. He would have come with her if he could have gotten away. Instead she started up the street toward Molly Pepperman’s boutique on the corner. Molly had been the first friend she’d made in Belle Bay, and she’d introduced her to the Kellys. And now they would be fellow retailers.

She’d taken a few steps toward her destination when her attention was diverted by a silver-toned SUV pulling into a parking space directly across from her. Something moved through her then—and she sensed who the driver was even before he opened the door. It was him—the tall, lanky stranger she’d nearly smashed into and very nearly kissed.

While she’d been in Mr. Bisson’s office, she’d been successful at putting that memory out of her mind. But as he emerged from the car, the details flooded her system with a vengeance. He took his time locking the car, and all the while awareness prickled along her nerve endings, her pulse raced, and the air seemed to thicken around her.

She couldn’t drag her gaze away from him as he headed down the sidewalk toward the pier. The worn jeans and T-shirt hugged a long, lean body, and the aviator sunglasses added to the appeal. The man had a great deal of eye candy going for him.

Something close to panic bubbled inside her. The eye-candy factor didn’t fully account for the intensity of her reaction to him. On the ride into town, she’d almost convinced herself that her initial response had been the result of her near-death experience. But why was it happening again?

Her heart was thudding, her blood heating in her veins. It was ridiculous. The man was a perfect stranger.

And that was when the memory slammed into her—a bare-fisted punch that had her backing into a nearby planter and sitting down hard on the edge.

Good grief. Could her reaction to this man be related to the parchment she’d pulled out of that damn fantasy box she’d found in Hattie’s secret room?

No. She pressed her hands to her head to stop the spinning. Hattie Haworth’s fantasy box was something that only a very few people were aware of. She and her sisters knew. And Naomi had probably told Dane. In the media blitz surrounding the arrest of Naomi’s exfiancé, Michael Davenport, the fact that Hattie’s ghost was alive and well, so to speak, at the hotel had leaked to the press. But the existence of her fantasy box had been kept private. And she’d never told anyone—not even Naomi and Reese—the fantasy she’d pulled out.

You will experience all of the sensory delights and adventure that come with being swept away by a stranger.

There was no denying it. The hunky stranger had swept her away. For those few breathless moments on the hillside, she’d forgotten everything else.

Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. She’d been working too hard. There was the stress of starting up her first retail venture and the meeting with Colonel Jenkins tomorrow. If the colonel was pleased with what she’d done at Haworth House, he could take her into the big leagues as an interior designer. And that would give her just the boost she needed to ensure the success of her store. Those were the things she should be focusing on.

Instead, the words on the top of the hatbox blinked on and off in her mind like a neon sign. Choose carefully. The one you draw out will come true.

Being swept away by a stranger had been a secret fantasy of hers when she was fourteen. By then, her reading had graduated from Nancy Drew to romance novels—the ones with bodice-ripper covers that she’d had to hide from the nuns. It had been exciting to read them, even more exciting to daydream her own forbidden and amorous adventures.

In the convent school, she’d always felt more confined than her sisters. Naomi was a scholar and focused on her goal of attending college in the States. And as long as the nuns allowed Reese to experiment in the kitchen, she was as happy as a clam.

But Jillian had always fantasized about escape. No wonder she’d dreamed about being swept away to a more adventurous life by slightly dangerous strangers. In her fantasies, she’d often imagined her hero to be Harrison Ford in his Indiana Jones persona.

On that first night when she’d entered the tower room and Hattie had shown her the secret room, she’d convinced herself that pulling that particular fantasy out of the box was a coincidence. But later when she’d shown her sisters the secret room and hatbox, they’d each drawn out parchments.

And she’d drawn the same one— You will experience all the sensory delights and adventure that come with being swept away by a stranger.

Evidently, the fantasies had struck a personal note with her sisters, too, because they hadn’t shared them. Maybe because of that warning on the top of the box.

Choose carefully. The one you draw out will come true.

The kicker was that Naomi’s already had come true and it had brought her Dane. She’d told them that much on the day after Michael Davenport had shot her. And she’d claimed that Hattie had played a role in saving Dane’s life.

What other kind of role might Hattie be playing? Could a ghost actually engineer which fantasy she and her sisters had pulled out? And what in the world had Hattie used those fantasies for? Why had she hidden them and nothing else in that secret room?

Was the one she’d drawn out going to come true just as Naomi’s had?

Did she want it to?

No. No. No. She was being ridiculous. Opening her eyes, Jillian gave her head a little shake to clear it of the fanciful questions. But as luck would have it, the first person she focused on was the tall, lanky piece of eye candy. Evidently he’d changed his mind about visiting the pier, and he was now directly across the street from her.

As she watched those long legs eat up the sidewalk, her heart gave another little thud, and flames licked along her nerve endings.

He didn’t even glance in her direction.

Good. Because she had better things to do than deal with adolescent fantasies. Or gawk at a man she’d never really met. And didn’t want to meet.

Liar, said a little voice in her head.

Molly’s boutique, she reminded herself as she sprang up from the planter. That had been her destination before Mr. Hunk had come into her range of vision and rudely interrupted her. Turning, she headed toward the corner. Molly probably couldn’t get away to see her new store. But she was always a good listener.

Jillian couldn’t help but stop to admire the window display at Discoveries. Color was everywhere—from the pile of lacy lingerie to the brightly hued sundresses that hung from hangers against a sky-blue backdrop. Molly changed the merchandise frequently, Jillian knew. And it worked. It was just one more marketing technique that she was going to have to talk to her friend about.

Stepping through the front door, she spotted Molly immediately. The petite brunette was standing with a customer in front of the full-length mirrors toward the center of the store. Not wanting to interrupt, Jillian busied herself with one of her favorite pastimes, browsing.

It always amazed her just how much product Molly packed into the space without making it seem overcrowded. The clothing racks that in other stores might offer dresses or pants in a variety of sizes here offered “outfits” complete with shoes, hats, handbags and jewelry. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept track of Molly’s progress with the elderly woman who was carefully inspecting her image in the mirror.

“What do you think, Miss Emmy Lou?” Molly asked. “I like the color on you.”

“You don’t think it’s too young?” the older woman asked.

Tricky question, Jillian thought. Miss Emmy Lou looked to be in her sixties.

“Not a bit,” Molly said. “It’s a classic style—a shirt-dress—ageless. My grandmother use to wear a shirtdress to church on Sundays and she had a couple of decades on you.”

Miss Emmy Lou laughed. “Your grandmother was four years ahead of me all through elementary school.”

Molly placed the flat of her hand against the side of her head. “Right. I must have been thinking about my great-grandmother.”

Miss Emmy Lou turned to face her. “You were thinking of making a sale. Your grandmother would be proud of you.”

Molly cocked her head to one side. “Sale aside, the dress suits you.”

Miss Emmy Lou flicked a glance in the mirror. “Yes, I think it does. But the shoes …?”

“Fisherman’s sandals—another ageless style.” It was just then that Molly caught sight of Jillian and said, “Jillian, come over here and offer my customer an objective opinion.”

Jillian smiled at her friend and found herself enveloped in a quick, warm hug, before they turned to face Miss Emmy Lou.

Molly made the introduction. “Miss Emmy Lou runs our local library around the corner on Whipple Street.”

The older woman held out her hand. “And you must be one of the sisters who’ve breathed some new life into this little village. I read your interview in the Belle Island Weekly Examiner a few weeks ago. Glad to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Jillian found the older woman’s handshake firm and her smile genuine.

“I also heard you bought the Kellys’ bookstore so they could finally retire. They’ve been talking about doing it for the last ten years.”

“I did. In fact, I closed on it today.” She lifted her hand, opened it. “I have the key right here and I was hoping to persuade Molly to take a half hour off and let me give her a tour.”

Miss Emmy Lou glanced around the shop. “I seem to be the only customer, so let’s see if we can hurry this along.” There was a twinkle in her eyes as she met Jillian’s. “What’s your verdict on this outfit?”

“I’d take the dress and the shoes. Molly has a knack for putting things together,” Jillian said.

“My childhood dream was to dress the stars for the red carpet,” Molly told them.

Emmy Lou laughed. “Red carpet, eh? Well, that just might make my day. I’ll take both.”

“It’ll just take me a minute to wrap them up.”

“No need. If it’s such a classic and suits me so well, I’m going to wear it out of the store. You can just pack up what I wore in.”

As Molly hurried to do that, Jillian turned to Emmy Lou. “Would you like to come with us?”

“Love to. We librarians are born nosey. I hear you’ve done a snap-bang job up at Haworth House, and I’d love to know what you have in mind for the bookstore.”

“I’m going to change it into an antiques shop,” Jillian explained. “Haworth House has been a real showcase for me. Many of the guests have commissioned me to find similar pieces for them. So I thought it might be the right time to open my own retail store.”

As the three women left Discoveries, Molly said, “I didn’t expect you until next week.”

“I got a call from a Colonel Jenkins who wants to meet with me tomorrow at Haworth House. He and his son are opening a string of hotels and they’re interested in seeing what I’ve done. If he hires me as a consultant, it would be an amazing opportunity for me.”

“Colonel Jenkins,” Miss Emmy Lou said. “That wouldn’t be Colonel Sam Jenkins, would it?”

“Yes,” Jillian replied. “Have you heard of him?”

“If he’s the one I’m thinking of, he was born here on Belle Island. He’s Samuel Jenkins the second, I believe. His father died tragically here when little Sam was only about four years old. The family sold everything and moved away from the island then.”

“I’ll have to ask him about it tomorrow.” Jillian stopped in front of the bookstore and took out the key.

Her hand trembled slightly when she inserted it into the lock. The door creaked as it opened and she led the way in.

Dust motes danced in the rays of sunlight that streamed through the windows. The store was just as she’d remembered it—except that the furniture was gone and the bookshelves lining the walls were empty. “The Kellys told me this was originally someone’s home. And as soon as I pictured it that way in my mind, I knew this was the place for me. They kept the rooms intact. This must have been the front parlor. I’ll take some of the bookshelves down, but basically, I’m going to keep the house the same and furnish it with product.”

“Great idea,” Molly murmured. “It will be like turning the house into what it once was.”

Jillian drew them into the second room. “This must have been the original dining room. I figure I can furnish it that way at times or as a library, or even as a bedroom depending on what I have on hand.”

“The house dates back before my time,” Miss Emmy Lou commented. “Even when I was a little girl, this was a commercial store. I can do some research at the library.”

“That would be great.” Jillian opened the door to the kitchen, where she knew that the Kellys had offered tea or hot spiced cider to their customers. But she stopped short on the threshold. The room was in shambles—something, likely a sledgehammer, had been used to put huge dents in the cupboards and red paint had been tossed on three of the walls. On the other a clear message had been painted.

Get out while you still can.

HE’D BEEN RIGHT ABOUT one thing. Jillian Brightman moved fast. So fast that when she shot out of the old bookstore, Ian didn’t have time to avoid the collision. The impact was hard enough to send his cup of coffee flying and had him stumbling back a pace. At least he managed to grip her shoulders and steady both of them before they took a major pratfall.

She looked up at him, met his eyes. “You again.”

For a moment every thought drained out of his head. All he knew was that they were close—so close that he could feel her breath on his lips. And hers were moist, parted and barely an inch away. One taste.

She stepped back, and that sudden movement brought the rest of the world into focus for Ian. When he saw the raw fury in her eyes, he tightened his hands on her shoulders. “You all right?”

“Yes.” She drew in a deep breath and pulled free of him. “No.” Raising an arm, she pointed through the door of the store. “Someone just vandalized one of the rooms in my new store. I have to … I have to go.”

Dragging his gaze away from Jillian, he searched the faces of the two other women he’d seen enter the store with her. Both of them looked frightened and concerned. But they were giving him the once-over. He bet they’d be able to pick him out of a lineup.

Inwardly, he sighed. He was definitely going to have to get better at keeping a low profile. It was the second time today he’d been on a collision course with a woman who wasn’t supposed to know he was even here on the island.

And it was the second time in as many hours that he’d very nearly kissed her—this time on a public street in front of witnesses. Once again, she’d made him lose track of anything else but her. He definitely needed to work on his undercover skills.

The small brunette had a cell phone pressed to her ear. After pocketing it, she took Jillian’s arm. “I contacted Nate. He’s waiting for us at his office.” She held out a hand. “Give me the key.”

Jillian fished it out of her pocket and the brunette locked the front door of the store and passed it back.

“Nate will want to see the damage for himself, but we’ll go up to his office first and file a report.”

As the brunette led Jillian away, Ian found himself stifling an urge to go after her. She was going to the right place. He knew from the research he’d done for his brother that Nate Kirby was the current sheriff of Belle Island, following in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps. Dane had found the local lawman quite capable.

“You know Ms. Brightman?”

Ian jerked his gaze away from Jillian’s retreating back and found himself looking into a pair of intelligent brown eyes that were laced with worry.

“No. That is, we haven’t been formally introduced. This is the second time we’ve run into each other.” And he was going to have to stop doing that. “I’m a guest up at the hotel.”

The elderly woman nodded. “But I can see you’re worried about her. Nate Kirby is our local sheriff. He’ll know what to do about this.”

Was she trying to convince him or herself? “What happened in there?”

She frowned. “A nasty piece of business. It was in the kitchen. Someone bashed in the cupboards and threw red paint on three of the walls. It looked like blood.”

Ian’s stomach knotted.

“There was a message painted on the fourth wall. Get out while you still can.”

Ian glanced up the street. The urge to go to her was even stronger now. So was his gut feeling that she was in danger.

“Nothing like this happens in Belle Bay. And everyone here is grateful to the Brightman sisters. They’ve created an economic upturn for the whole community. I don’t understand why anyone would do something like this.”

In the next block, Ian could see that Jillian, in the company of the sheriff and the brunette, was on her way back. Time for him to exit stage left. He glanced back down at the older woman. He wanted to question her further. But maintaining a low profile was more important right now. “The sheriff is on his way. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine.” She held out a hand. “I’m Emmy Lou Pritchard. I run the library. And you’re?”

He studied her for a moment. A more seasoned operative would have made his getaway without giving away his name. He had a hunch he’d just been out-maneuvered by a librarian. He shook the hand. “I’m Jack Ryan.”

“Jack Ryan.” She beamed a smile at him. “Glad to meet you. You’ve made me feel much better about Jillian’s safety.”