Close to Home Part 3

Chapter 4.

Tessa felt the hinge of her jaw go loose with shock. Snapping her mouth closed, she retreated into the shadow of the gazebo's roof. But Johnny's penetrating stare followed her, hot and intent.

He didn't want her. No man, not even Johnny, could live as man and wife with a woman for eight years without giving her more than a peck on the cheek-not if he actually wanted her.

This was something else, it had to be. She'd been so sure he would be glad to be free of her. Not that he ever would have abandoned their vows on his own-Tessa knew him, and his uncompromising sense of honor, too well for that. But honor only went so far. Surely now that she was making it clear that a new start was what she wanted, Johnny could allow himself the same freedom.

"What happened to you out there?" she asked, the words spilling out in a rush of bewilderment as she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to make sense of the situation.

He stiffened minutely, his warm, brown eyes clouding over like the sky before a storm. "What do you mean?"

Tessa knew that tone. It meant "Danger ahead, back off," and two years ago, that's exactly what she would have done. The urge to avoid conflict was still there, but Tessa was in control of it these days. She could make her own choices, based on more than fear.

"Something has obviously changed," she insisted, forcing her voice level and calm. "Do you even remember how things were between us before you took that a.s.signment?"

Quiet. Distant. Two people living in the same house, but miles apart in all the ways that mattered.

That's what Tessa remembered. That was what she couldn't bear to go back to.

But Johnny was smiling, a slow, knee-weakening curve of those lips that had tasted every inch of Tessa's body.

Her heart jumped up into her throat, cutting off her breath and making her light-headed. That was the only reason she had for standing stock-still, like a deer in the headlights, as Johnny prowled up the steps and stalked ever closer.

"I remember everything," he said, his low, gravel-and-honey voice licking over her nerves. "I remember wondering if a touch, right here, would make you sigh."

Reaching out, he cupped her elbow in his palm and brushed his thumb across the thin, tender skin inside the bend. Tessa felt her breath catch.

Fierce satisfaction lit Johnny's eyes for an instant before he bent his head to nuzzle at Tessa's temple.

"And if a kiss like this," he murmured against her skin, "would make you s.h.i.+ver."

Warm p.r.i.c.kles raced down Tessa's spine, raising the hair on her arms and sending a fine tremor through her mesmerized body. Johnny gave a pleased, wordless hum, which caused another s.h.i.+ver and a spread of heat sharp enough to bring a flush to Tessa's cheeks.

Their chaste embraces and frustratingly pa.s.sionless good-night kisses had never felt like this. Tessa was caught up, ensnared by years of unrequited longing for the kind of desire she never thought she'd see in her husband's handsome face.

"I should have done this every day," Johnny whispered, dragging his mouth along the curve of her jaw and up to her trembling lips. "I should have kissed you and held you and showed you exactly how gorgeous you are to me, sweetheart. Every day. Every night. Let me make up for it now."

The fading light slanted into the gazebo, golden and enveloping. Tessa heard the birdcalls and the rustle of leaves overhead, the far-off rush of the waves against the sand, like the background to a particularly nice dream. And right here, in her arms, was the best fantasy she'd ever had, come to life.

Johnny was here. And he wanted her. As the hunger and longing she'd buried came surging up to propel her into their first kiss, nothing else mattered.

And for the first time since Johnny Alexander hauled scared, meek Theresa Mulligan out of a bad situation and into his life, Tessa had the courage to go for what she wanted.

Spearing her hands into his thick, dark hair, Tessa boldly tilted her head and deepened the kiss. Their bodies crashed together like ocean waves, primal and elemental, surging on the tide of pa.s.sion rolling through them both. With an incoherent groan, Johnny's grip on her hips tightened, hauling her closer until her legs spread and clenched around his muscular thigh. Hunger tugged into a hard knot at Tessa's core, pulled tighter and tighter with every stroke of Johnny's wicked tongue, every rub of his hard, male body against her melting softness.

Blood thundered in Tessa's ears. The sound of her heartbeat nearly drowned out Johnny's voice as he framed her face in his palms and groaned, "G.o.d, Terri."

The sound of the hated nickname severed the taut coil of desire, releasing Tessa from her mindless greed for more of Johnny's touch, his kiss, his body. She jerked back, shoving at his shoulders hard enough to make his eyes go wide with surprise.

"It's Tessa," she panted, her voice harsh with lingering pa.s.sion and the need to make him understand. "You came here looking for Terri, but she's gone. And she's never coming back. Not if I can help it. If you can't accept that, you might as well sign those papers right now and head back to D.C."

Johnny bit back a curse. Of all the boneheaded mistakes to make. It was nothing but a slip of the tongue, he wanted to argue, but if he said the word "tongue" out loud to his wife right that minute, he might not be able to stop himself from reaching for her and getting another hit off her addictive lips.

How had he never kissed her before? The heady taste of her lingered on his palate, stoking the fire raging in his blood. When did the girl he'd do anything to protect turn into a woman he'd do anything to have?

He stared at Tessa's stiff, closed body language. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her chin tilted up, and her brows drawn down. She was in no mood for more kissing right now.

Johnny licked his lower lip where it was tender and sensitive from the force of Tessa's response to him, and allowed himself a moment of hope. There was something between them, something that demanded to be explored and savored. Tessa wouldn't be able to deny it forever, and he had time to make her see the light.

Four weeks, to be exact.

Four weeks to remind his wife that eight years of marriage couldn't-shouldn't-be so easy to erase. But if he was going to do this, he had to get smart. Strategic. Like infiltrating a motorcycle gang or working his way up the ranks of gunrunners to get the dirt on them-he hadn't just waltzed in on day one and demanded that the boss intro him to his South American contacts.

No, he had to lay low. Bide his time. Maneuver himself into position ...

"Understood," Johnny said now, showing her an easy smile. "Tessa, not Terri. I like it. I like the new name, the new hair-everything."

She pinked up, but her chin lifted determinedly. "Okay, then. Good. Because I like the new me, too." Tessa's pink tongue came out to flick over her bottom lip, and Johnny had to concentrate extra hard on his strategy for a second.

"I want to get to know you all over again," Johnny told her. "But in the meantime, I'd better go find someplace to stay. Since I'm going to be sticking around for the next month or so."

"Sorry I can't offer you my couch." Tessa did look sorry, or at least conflicted about it, which Johnny found heartening. "But I wouldn't feel comfortable. Patty has been so good to me, taking me in and teaching me about running a business. I can't repay her with an uninvited, long-term houseguest."

Part of Johnny, the impatient part, would have loved to argue and push and point out that he wouldn't be in Patty's way if he were sharing his wife's bed. But it was too soon for that, and he knew it. "No worries. I'll find a copy of that newspaper you mentioned and look up a few possibilities. There's bound to be something that'll be better than where I spent the last year and a half."

A vision of the residence motel where "Alex Santiago" had bunked rose up in Johnny's mind's eye. Convenient to the docks and with enough foot traffic to camouflage the comings and goings of both his shady targets and his agency contacts, the Palmetto Inn had served its purpose as a home base for Johnny's undercover alias. But it hadn't come close to being a home.

He blinked the memory away and refocused on Tessa. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to ask more about that, but instead she shook her head a bit and said, "Come on. Walk me to the bakery and I'll ask Patty for her copy of the Gazette, then I've got to get back to work."

"Maybe we could go the long way around the square," Johnny suggested, offering Tessa his arm. "I'd love to see a little more of this cute town you've discovered."

She gave him a suspicious look as she placed a cautious hand in the bend of his elbow, but Johnny blinked innocently and waited. He was counting on Tessa's pride in her new home to help him extend his time with her by a few minutes, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Well. I guess that would be all right." She laughed suddenly, fond and warm, and the sound made Johnny's heart swell. "It's not like even a comprehensive tour of the entire island would take longer than a couple of hours. A walk around the town square, which is our version of downtown, will hardly make a difference to Patty. Come on, then. I'll show you around."

Johnny took a firm grip on himself and prepared to be delighted by every kitschy, cutesy detail she pointed out, but to his surprise, Sanctuary was an undeniably beautiful place. From the stately old Victorian mansions lining Island Road along one side of the village green to the courthouse and the white-brick bank at the head of the park, Sanctuary looked like something out of a picture book from fifty years ago.

"And over here on this side is the main drag, helpfully called Main Street," Tessa said, towing him around the corner and waving at the line of small shops and businesses that contained the bakery where he'd found her.

"I know, it's not exactly Tysons Corner," she went on, naming one of the largest shopping centers in the D.C. area. "But it's everything we need. In fact, that's the motto of the hardware store down the street from Patty's-if Hackley's doesn't have it, you don't need it!"

Johnny grinned, the smile coming easier and feeling more sincere than he could remember in a while. "I like it. Sometimes having a lot of options and choices is more paralyzing than helpful."

"I'm glad you feel that way, because you're not likely to have a ton of options when it comes to places to stay. There are very few apartments available for rent, and people are just starting to get their summer cottages fixed up for the season. You really might have a hard time finding anything."

"Why isn't there a hotel on the island? I would think they'd want to bring in tourists, and tourist dollars."

Tessa shrugged as they strolled past the tiny stone castle of a public library on the corner. "I don't know. Patty says there's never been a hotel here, and there never will be one."

As Johnny glanced down a side street, a man on a ladder caught his eye. Something about the guy pinged at the back of Johnny's brain, something that made him seem out of place or ...

Johnny frowned, watching the guy tip way over to hang a sign above a door into a building behind the bookstore. The man hung suspended in midair, back torqued and shoulders straining, but the heavy-looking sign never wobbled. Neither did his denim-clad legs, braced against the sides of the ladder.

The man hung the sign and swung down from the ladder, landing like a big cat, silent and graceful.

The hairs on Johnny's arms lifted as he clocked what bugged him about the scene. The way that guy moved-the looseness of his shoulders combined with his ramrod-straight posture. No wasted motion. From the set of his head, Johnny could tell the guy knew exactly how many people were standing at the entrance to the alley behind him, and how far away they were.

He acted like a man with a lot of advanced training, probably ex-military. Johnny ought to know-he was one, himself.

Johnny knew what he himself was doing on sleepy Sanctuary Island-what was this guy's angle?

Johnny paused in his tracks, startling Tessa into stopping, too. She cast him a questioning glance, forcing him to come up with a good reason for his sudden halt.

"Huh," he improvised, jerking his chin toward the narrow side street. "Then what's the b.u.t.tercup Inn? Sounds like a hotel to me."

"No way!" Tessa peered down the street-more of an alley, really. "Patty said there was a scheme afoot to bring in a hotel a few years ago, but the whole town basically revolted against the idea. I can't believe the council would allow it. We should check it out."

The ferocious need to protect her rose up Johnny's spine, stiffening it. Tessa didn't need to go anywhere near that ex-military guy until Johnny knew more about him.

He schooled his expression to calm, instinctively aware that this new version of his wife would react badly to being hustled out of harm's way. Not that he could be sure there was anything to protect her from, he reminded himself.

But for the last eighteen months, Johnny's life had literally depended on his ability to size up potential threats and pick out the most dangerous guy in a room, at a single glance. His gut hadn't failed him yet, and right now, his gut was telling him that the man in the alley was someone to steer clear of.

So Johnny c.o.c.ked his head at Tessa and said, "I thought you needed to get back to work."

Curiosity warred with the obligation she obviously felt toward her employer. "Wellll, that's true. But you know, Patty is on the town council. I bet she would want to know what the deal is with this inn. Maybe I should go with you, just to see what it's all about."

"Or maybe you should head back to the bakery." Johnny curled an arm around her shoulders and used the leverage to turn her steps away from the alley and back down Main Street. She fit under his arm perfectly, her lithe body snugged against his as if she were the missing piece of him. Johnny shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate.

"Wait, Johnny," she protested, craning her head to look behind them. "Stop it, would you? I said stop!"

Startled by the impatient but firm command in her tone, Johnny slowed and stared down at her. Flags of color darkened the skin over her cheekbones and her eyes sparked with some inner flame he couldn't remember seeing before.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"This!" She pulled away, gesturing jerkily at the empty air between them. "You can't come down here after all this time apart, and start making demands and trying to run my life. Because for the first time ever, this is my life, and I'm not going to give that up!"

"I'm not asking you to." Johnny ran a hand through his hair, frustration burning in his gut like a bullet hole. "I just don't want you talking to that guy. There's something off about him."

Her brows drew together. "Can you hear yourself? You haven't even spoken to the man. You sound like a paranoid crazy person!"

Johnny clenched his jaw, fighting not to react. Tessa wasn't saying anything he hadn't said to himself, especially in the last few weeks of the undercover op when lines blurred and tensions soared and it became ever more crucial to be able to tell friend from foe. Maybe he was being paranoid. Probably, in fact.

But a healthy dose of paranoia was all that had kept him alive. He saw no reason to give up on it now.

"Stop trying to roll me in bubble wrap! I'm not made of gla.s.s," she snapped.

"Come on, Terri," he started, then broke off, rubbing his forehead. "Tessa, d.a.m.n it, I mean Tessa."

But her face had gone cold and still. "There's no point to this if all you see when you look at me is her. I'm not Terri anymore, and I never will be again. I'd rather be dead."

Before Johnny could ask what the h.e.l.l was so wrong with Terri, the woman he'd married, Tessa turned on her heel and marched off down the street. He watched her go with a familiar feeling of bafflement.

Women. Before, he never knew what was up with his wife because she was so quiet and reserved. He'd ask how her day was and get one-word answers. Now she had plenty to say, but none of it made a lick of sense to Johnny.

At least he'd diverted her attention from the b.u.t.tercup Inn.

Yeah, great strategy there, Johnny mused with a grimace. Get her to drop the idea of investigating the new guy in town by making her furious with you. You have four weeks to fix this. After that ...

He paused, catching a glimpse of himself in the front window of the bookstore. Johnny stared into his own hollow eyes, dark and empty in the reflection. As dark and empty as his life would be, if he couldn't convince his wife that they belonged together.

Chapter 5.

Marcus Beckett closed the ladder with a clank. He leaned it against the crumbly brick wall and stared up at his handiwork with satisfaction. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and his upper back ached from all the heavy lifting, but both those sensations were satisfying in their own way.

When was the last time he worked with his hands to do more than fieldstrip a weapon while blindfolded, or used his body for more than standing around and looking imposing?

Grim memories bubbled up, threatening the numb detachment Marcus had worked so hard for. He pushed them down and scowled at his new sign.

"The b.u.t.tercup Inn," said a male voice behind him.

Marcus went tense all over, one hand twitching with the automatic need to lift to his ear and find out why his piece wasn't working: How had someone got the drop on him, where was his spotter- That life is over, he told himself harshly, swallowing the bitter, metallic tang of adrenaline on the back of his tongue. He turned, casual and nonthreatening, to see a tall, scruffy guy with a duffel over one shoulder and an easy grin. There was something about his eyes, though, something watchful and wary that prompted an equal wariness in Marcus.

Not that he had to show it. He was home now. n.o.body on this island had it in for him.

"We're not quite ready to open our doors yet, but we're getting there," Marcus said gruffly, wiping his hands on the rag hanging out of his back pocket.

He offered his right hand to the guy, and got a firm handshake and a wide smile that seemed at odds with the stranger's sharp gaze. "So you're opening a hotel?"

Marcus raised his brows. "Nah, it's a bar. Or it's going to be, if I can ever get finished with the reno."

"I get it. Like a pub. Sort of old-fas.h.i.+oned."

The guy's frown lifted a bit, although he was still watching Marcus's every move like Marcus was a rattlesnake he'd stumbled over. Marcus was used to scaring people, but this guy didn't look scared, exactly. And he was supposed to be working on being less intimidating, he reminded himself.