An Excerpt from Cher Gorman's Wolf Island
“I have a proposition for you.”
He stopped and turned his head. His sensual gaze journeyed in a lazy appraisal from her eyes to her mouth, making her limbs feel warm and weak. “A proposition?” An underlying sensuality suffused his husky voice.
Her cheeks heated. What would it be like to slip beneath the sheets with a man like him, to lie warm and protected within his embrace? But would she gain protection, or would getting closer to him physically be a danger instead? Had the same thing happened to Miranda?
Why did she find him so attractive? Abby gave herself a mental shake. “Wrong choice of words. I didn't mean that kind of proposition.”
A corner of Devlin's handsome mouth kicked up.
Abby cleared her throat. “I design a lot of graphics for my students to help them with their studies. I've built quite a few websites, and the owners were very pleased with the results.” She paused to let her words sink in and gauge his reaction. He raised his brows and motioned for her to continue.
“I could do the same for you and the island.” She gestured with her hand. “A well-designed website could bring in a lot of much needed business. In fact, I'm surprised you don't already have one. There would, of course, be plenty of information about the Chiming Lady, the history of the island, and so forth.” Tomorrow she would go into the village and get a firsthand look around, snap a few pictures, and talk to the locals. That would make it easy to bring Miranda into the conversation.
“Once I get the site up and running, I'm sure it will encourage more tourists to visit the island, therefore boosting the economy. What do you think?”
His mouth eased into a sudden, arresting smile. “I think you're just trying to come up with an excuse to stay, but you're wasting your breath.”
Not just an excuse. She had to stay. “Won't you at least consider the idea?”
The lamps along the hallway flickered out. A chill brushed Abby's skin.
“Help me,” a quiet voice sighed.
Her heartbeat picked up rhythm, and she stopped in her tracks. “Did you hear that?” she whispered and lightly touched his arm.
“What?” A frown creased Devlin's brow.
“That weird voice.” She turned her head to look up and down the darkened hallway, seeing nothing.
“Must have been the wind.” He shrugged in an unconcerned manner and lightly grasped her elbow to lead her toward her room.
“It didn't sound like the wind. And what about the lights?”
“Power outages aren't unusual in the castle. Much of the wiring is old. Relax. You're letting your imagination run away with you.”
She didn't appreciate his patronizing tone, but she let it pass for now. Maybe he was right. When they entered her room, he lifted the screen from the fireplace, knelt down, and struck a match against the hearth. In a moment, flames licked at the kindling and stacked wood. He rose, replaced the screen, and watched her with a sensual glimmer in his eyes.
Through the open door, the lights blinked on in the hallway. “See?” Devlin gestured toward the hallway. “Otis must have checked the fuse box.”
She swallowed and inhaled a calming breath. “So, how about a few more nights' stay in the castle?” After all, Abby knew she could design a very sophisticated website for the island. “You never told me what you thought of my idea.” She rubbed her hands together and glanced at him, waiting for him to answer. But only the gentle flutter of the flames in the hearth filled the silence in the room. He was watching her the way a man watches a woman he finds attractive.
She had little experience there, although she was no virgin. He walked toward her, slowly. Her pulse quickened. The closer he came, the harder her pulse beat.
As he moved toward her, his gaze never left her face. Unable to meet his eyes a moment longer, she stared directly at the center of his chest. Muscles shifted beneath his blue shirt. A hint of dark chest hair curled through the opening at his throat, inviting her to touch.
Within seconds, he stood barely an inch away. His scent grew more powerful, nearly overwhelming her, the warmth from him a gentle caress of her body. He raised his hand and laid his fingers over the pulse in her neck. Her heart accelerated to a jackhammer beat.
The heat from his hand infused her skin. Hunger and yearning flowed from him into her bones. Inexorably, he lifted her chin until she looked deeply into his eyes.
The moment her eyes met his, she experienced a sensation of spinning down a deep emerald chasm of which there was no end. Clear green eyes with the iris circled in black mesmerized her. His breath, with the faint tinge of coffee, warmed her lips. Her blood heated and raced while her bones slowly melted.
“Staying here more than one night is a lousy idea.” His husky voice did strange things to her insides. Concern flickered in his eyes.
What did a man like Devlin have to be worried about? Did his anxiety have something to do with Miranda's disappearance?
She wanted -- oh, how she wanted -- more from Devlin. But how could she? He could be connected to Alice Howard's death somehow.
He rubbed his thumb in a lazy circle against the jumping pulse in her neck. Her breasts ached to be touched in just such a way. How would his mouth feel on hers?
She took a step away to put some much needed distance between them, but he moved closer. Instinctively, Abby laid a hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm, warming her, making her skin tingle. Firm muscles flexed while strength emanated from him, surrounding her in a drugging haze.
Lord help her, she wanted to lean into him, rest her head in the middle of his chest, and let the sensual drumbeat flow into her.
What was she thinking? Her attitude toward him was beginning to soften, and she couldn't allow that to happen. “What worries you so much, Devlin? Why don't you want me here?”
A spark of some indefinable emotion burned briefly in his eyes. “Something that would curdle your blood if you ever came face to face with it.”
His chilling words made uneasiness curl through her stomach. “What do you mean?”
He dropped his hand from her neck, breaking the tenuous connection between them. Her palm tingled with the warmth from his body, and cool air brushed over her neck where he'd laid his hand.
“Never mind. You're leaving tomorrow.” His offhand manner belied the note of regret in his words.
“But you can't just make a statement like that and then leave me hanging.” Exasperation rang in her voice. The man was being deliberately obtuse.
He gazed at her for a moment, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “You're a curious cat, aren't you?”
“I'm a teacher. It's my nature to be curious. Why won't you answer my question?”
A clock on the mantel in her room chimed the hour in light, musical notes. “I've answered all the questions I intend to for one day.”
© Cher Gorman, September 2005
All Rights Reserved
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