Gull Harbor (19 page)

“Bad man,” Maria insisted, as she’d been doing ever since Claire had returned with the groceries. Her spirit was flitting about, clearly agitated, desperately trying to get into Claire’s mind. But she just couldn’t risk it right now. The headache was gone, and she was ready to face Max. She couldn’t attempt to patch things up if her head was threatening to split open—the pain would end up making her say something she’d regret. Besides, she only had a little window of time to catch him; Dan had told her Max was planning to perform tonight.

Maria continued trying to get through.
Ahora
, she pleaded silently.
Now
.

“No,” said Claire, just as firmly. “Later. I promise. I’m sorry,” she added, as she threw up the mental wall she had perfected when she was younger.

She switched off the bathroom light and trotted down the creaky stairs, frowning at the pile of shoes near the front door. It was obvious Maria was angry about being put off. In addition to the jumbled mess of shoes, Claire had found several picture frames out of place in the living room. She’d ignored those, too—she was too nervous about seeing Max to worry about cleaning up. She’d even left the nonperishable groceries sitting in their bags in the kitchen.

Eyeing the pile, she selected a pair of kitten heels she’d found at a secondhand store. Then she grabbed her bag and slammed the door shut, being careful to lock it. Somehow she’d forgotten to lock the kitchen door earlier. This wasn’t exactly a high-crime area, but it also wasn’t her house. She owed the Llewellyns the courtesy of keeping their valuables safe.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting in her car in the tavern’s parking lot, staring at the back door. Anxiety swirled through her veins like an electrical current as she reconsidered her decision to come here. Initially, she’d thought it would be bad form to drop by Max’s house unannounced after what had happened last time. But now she realized the tavern wasn’t exactly a safer choice; more than likely, she was about to come face-to-face with Katie.

Had Katie seen her run away the other morning outside of Max’s house? Had Max told his hostess about Claire’s accusations? Oh, God. The knots in her stomach twisted even tighter.

This was ridiculous. Here she was, a woman who actually sought out conversations with ghosts, afraid to talk to a sweet twenty-one-year-old girl. She shoved open the car door and climbed out with determination. She had ignored Maria, the spirit who desperately needed her help, all day long in order to have a clear head for her discussion with Max. Cowering in the parking lot was not an option.

“Claire!” Katie greeted her, a genuine smile on her face. “We haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“I guess I’ve been busy,” she mumbled self-consciously.

“It’s filling up fast here, since Max is singing. But if you can hang on a second, I’ll make sure you get a table up near the front.” She pulled a single menu from the stack.

Breathe, Claire reminded herself. “Um…okay. I’ll just wait over at the bar,” she added, gesturing with a tip of her head.

Katie’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Max is in his office—why don’t you go say hello? I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

Doubtful. “Oh,” she stammered. “I don’t want to disturb him if he’s busy.” She shuffled awkwardly toward the bar, desperate for some liquid courage.

“The house white, please,” she told the bartender as she sank onto a stool. One hurdle crossed, she told herself. If Katie
had
slept with Max, she was an incredible actress. And if she hadn’t slept with Max, but knew that Claire had thought she had—well, then she still possessed considerable talent. There was absolutely no indication Katie was hiding anything.

The bartender had just passed her a glass of wine when a hand settled on her shoulder. “Katie said you were waiting for me?” Max said, his voice smooth and deep.

She jumped in her seat, sloshing the wine. Wiping her hand on the paper napkin, she struggled to compose herself. “I…I guess I was hoping to talk to you.” She dropped her head, her long curtain of hair falling forward to hide her face. “I’m so bad at this. I’m sorry.”

He slid his hand to cup her elbow. Guiding her up from the stool, he murmured, “Are you sorry you’re bad at this? Or for something else?”

She reached for her wineglass and allowed him to lead her away from the bar. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” she said miserably. She waited until they had wound their way through the seating area before continuing. “When I saw you and Katie come out of your house the other morning and get into your truck—well, I just assumed the two of you had gone to your place after work and spent the night together.”

He steered her into his office and closed the door. “Well, we did spend the night together, but that doesn’t mean we had sex.” Leaning his back against the door, he folded his arms and regarded her coolly. “What makes you think she would even want to have sex with me?”

Unable to stop herself, she laughed. It sounded bitter and hollow in her ears. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself? Everyone wants to have sex with you.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Uncrossing his arms, he raked a hand through his hair. “Katie has a boyfriend. In fact, she lives with him.”

Heat rose on her cheeks. She looked at the floor, ashamed.

“They got into a fight at the Tidal Pool—that’s a dance club about a half hour away—and he left her there.”

Claire lifted her head and met Max’s gaze, her eyes wide with shock.

“Yeah. I didn’t say I liked the guy. Apparently she does, though. Her parents are already on her case about their relationship, so she didn’t want to call them. And she knew I’d be up. She called me, and I went to pick her up, and I brought her to my place. Yes, she slept in my bed, and I took the couch. I seem to remember doing the very same thing for you not so long ago.”

She nodded, thoroughly embarrassed. “I guess I forgot I don’t have exclusive rights to your rescue services. As a matter of fact, I have no claim on you whatsoever.”

“Do you want a claim on me?” he asked, his voice low. He closed the distance between them.

Tears gathered behind her eyes.
Please don’t cry.
She wasn’t tired, her head wasn’t throbbing—there was no reason she shouldn’t be able to control her emotions. “I don’t know how to answer that,” she managed, her throat swelling. “I will always love you. But judging from my recent behavior, I’m not sure I can ever allow myself to trust you.”

Reaching for her hands, he untangled her twisting fingers and twined them with his own. “I know it’s hard for you to trust me. But what happened five years ago was…different. I had to protect my family. And I thought, in some way, that I was protecting you as well.”

“I realize that now. I know you were worried about what the truth would do to my relationship with my father. He was all I had left for family, so I can sort of understand your motivation for keeping his threats and demands from me. But you hurt me so badly.” Her voice broke, and the tears escaped.

He moved his hands to the sides of her face, wiping at the tears with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry. All that stuff is in the past, and we should leave it there, where it belongs.”

“You’re right. Time to move on.” She attempted a brave smile. “I guess I’d better go.”

He frowned, sliding his fingers into her hair. “You’re not going to stay and watch me play?”

“You really want me out there?”

“No.”

Her heart sank. She tried to back away, but he kept her face trapped between his hands.

“Actually, I want you in here,” he finished with a wicked grin. “I think that’s a much better idea.”

Her cheeks flushed with heat, and he stroked the warm skin with the rough pads of his thumbs. Tipping her head back gently, he lowered his mouth to hers. The tenderness of the kiss made her chest ache. His teeth tugged softly on her lower lip as he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers.

“We probably shouldn’t start something we can’t finish,” he murmured.

She sighed, forcing her eyes back open. “You’re right. If you don’t get out there soon, a posse of angry women will be banging this door down.”

Laughter rumbled from deep in his chest, even as he shook his head at her. “A posse?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Claire, I think your perception of my status around here might be just a bit overinflated.”

“I don’t think so. Every woman in that crowded tavern is going to be mentally planning my demise when they see me walk out of your office with you.”

“Does that bother you?” he asked as he turned to retrieve his guitar.

She pressed herself against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Not really. I haven’t exactly been working on cultivating friendships this summer anyway.” With a final tight squeeze, she released him.

He dropped a lingering kiss on the top of her head. “You’ve had more important matters to deal with here. But I’m your friend—if you want me, that is.”

“I want you. In every way imaginable,” she added, hooking her finger into the waist of his jeans.

“God, Claire, you’re killing me,” he groaned. He bent his head and crushed his mouth to hers hungrily. Straightening, he blew out a frustrated breath. “I really have to get out there. Can we continue this later?”

She nodded, reaching for her forgotten wine. Her lips curved into a smile around the top of the glass as she sipped. “Come by tonight, whenever you’re finished here.”

He opened the door to his office and stood back to let her pass. “It’s a date,” he whispered in her ear.

Pausing in the doorway, she murmured back, “It’s a date if I survive that long. If looks can kill, I won’t make it across the room.”

He laughed. “I think you’re imagining things. But since you’re the perceptive one out of the two of us, I’ll shield you, just in case.” He pretended to push her behind him protectively as he led them out of the office.

Chapter 26

The dream was different this time. The pain was gone; the desperate craving replaced with confusion. She was floating, but not on the pleasurable cloud she had come to associate with the drug. Instead, she was lost, disembodied, fractured somehow.

A girl lay in the bed below her, thin and pale. Her arm was tied to a bedpost. A wave of recognition washed over her; she was looking at herself.

Panic flared.
I need to get back
. But she continued to drift above her body, alone and afraid.

The stairs creaked, announcing someone’s approach. The sounds reverberated throughout the various realities, as though in stereo. There was someone coming up the steps in the vision Maria had sent—but there was also someone coming up the steps outside the vision, in the here and now.

Claire moaned, struggling to drag her conscious back to the physical world. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on the dark figure standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Fear flooded her disoriented mind, and she clutched at her comforter protectively.

A whimper escaped as the figure crossed the room. Maria had sent her messages all day about the bad man, but she had failed to heed it as a warning. She had thought Maria was just frustrated with their lack of progress. Now he was here.

“Claire?” Max’s voice cut through the darkness.

She went limp with relief. “Max? Thank God it’s you.”

He hurried to her side. “Who did you think it was?” he asked, looking around the room suspiciously.

“I…I was having a vision,” she said with a shudder. “In the vision, someone was coming for Maria. The bad man. She’s been repeating those words all day. I guess she needs to show me what he did with her body.”

Max sat on the bed and gathered her in his arms. “But you’re okay?”

“I’m okay. I need to fill you in on a bunch of stuff tomorrow. I’d rather not talk about it now. My heart is about to jump out of my chest.”

“Sorry I scared you,” he said, smoothing her hair back.

“Don’t be.” She snuggled closer to him. “I told you to come over. And I’m so glad you are here.”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you,” she murmured, sliding her hand under his shirt.

The muscles along his abdomen tightened reflexively under her palm. “I missed you too.”

Her hand moved up to his chest. “Really?”

“Really,” he answered, his voice solemn. He tugged gently on her hair, tilting her head back. “I need you, Claire.”

She held his gaze, a delicious shiver of joy mixed with anticipation traveling up her spine. His head bent, and his mouth found her exposed neck. She moaned, digging her nails into the hard planes of his chest as his kisses moved up toward her ear.

“Too many clothes,” he decided, rolling her white tank top up. She lifted her arms and he pulled it over her head; his own shirt was off a second later.

His lips closed around her taut nipple as he pressed her down into the mattress. She yanked at the zipper of his jeans, freeing his erection. Wriggling out of her own panties, she gasped with pleasure as his fingers plunged inside her.

She squirmed underneath him, writhing with need. “Please,” she groaned. But he was taking his time, tormenting her with his wicked fingertips. She rolled him over and straddled him, taking matters into her own hands.

She rocked on top of him, setting a desperate pace and collapsing against him when she shattered. He followed her, holding her hips tightly against his as he came inside her in deep, satisfying pulses.

His hands moved up to rub the contours of her back. “Damn,” he said in a ragged voice. “If the last few days hadn’t been so awful, I’d suggest we break up more often.”

With a breathy laugh, she nuzzled his neck. “Seriously. That was…” She paused, searching for the correct adjective to describe what had just happened between them. She gave up with a contented sigh. “There are no words.”

The words he had used suddenly sunk in. The term “break up” implied a relationship between boyfriend and girlfriend. Was that what they were? Once again, her lack of experience in this area added to her confusion. Prior to this summer, the only other breakup she’d endured had nearly torn her apart.