Adam reached out and ghosted his fingertips along my jaw. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” I closed my eyes and relaxed into his warm touch, allowing his fingers to make a slow, silky path down the side of my neck to my shoulder. Toying with the flimsy strap of my top, he whispered, “Exquisite.”
“Adam,” I began.
Our eyes met, and even in the darkness, I saw conflict in his. “I better just…go,” he said, dropping his hand and turning away.
Not sure what had just happened, I mumbled, “Good night,” and went into the cottage. In the dark I leaned back against the inside of the door. After several minutes I turned on a lamp and pulled myself together.
One thing for sure, my first time seeing Adam Ward after all these years had not gone the way I’d ever expected. Now that I was away from him, I was able to think a bit more clearly. I sat down on the sofa and pulled my knees up to my chest.
Viewing Adam with an objective eye was going to be a challenge. I couldn’t allow this attraction to him to get in the way of my reason for being here. It was going to be tough, because being around him had made me feel awake and alive. Like giddy, skin-tingling, pulse-racing alive. And now that I’d experienced it, I really craved that feeling.
But it was imperative to keep reminding myself that Adam Ward was more than just some heartbreakingly handsome guy. Hell, he was the primary suspect in this case. He could end up being downright dangerous. And not the sexy kind of dangerous that had excited me tonight.
No, Adam was not to be underestimated. Someone had already enlightened him to my “writer’s block” story. And it was clear he wasn’t buying it—at all. What would he do if he knew I planned to investigate his one-time fiancée’s disappearance and, in turn, investigate him?
Logic dictated that the wisest course of action in this situation would be to stay away from him. Investigate from afar. I whispered to myself, “Stay away from Adam Ward, stay away from Adam Ward.”
But, like whispering affirmations, some things are easier said than done.
Chapter 4
The following day, I was back on task. I had the case files to review, and I planned to drop by the café. Not only did I have to place an order for some real groceries—energy bars and water were just not cutting it—it was also time to start digging around to find out exactly why Nate and Helena had chosen to live on this island. Did it have anything at all to do with the Harbour Falls Mystery?
With a renewed sense of purpose, I threw back the thick pile of blankets and got out of bed, yelping when my bare feet hit the hardwood floor. Brrr, cold. I’d forgotten to turn up the heat before retiring for the night, and now it was damn nippy in here.
With a quick peek out the blinds, I was not the least bit surprised to be greeted with a steel-colored sky, winds strong enough to kick up little tornadoes of soggy—but still brightly colored—leaves, and a view of the tempestuous sea. This last muted by a dense film of fog.
Yes, it was true Fade Island weather, and I’d better get used to it. A steaming hot shower helped warm me up, but it was the oversized fisherman’s knit sweater that I threw on over my long-sleeved tee and jeans ensemble that promised to keep the island’s perpetual dampness at bay.
Tromping down the stairs, running a towel through hair that just refused to dry, I was startled by two heavy knocks on the front door. Who would be calling at this early hour? As foolish as it was, a part of me hoped it was Adam.
But when I peered through the peephole in the door, a fish-eye, distorted image of a hulking mass of a man greeted me. Though he wore a dark gray raincoat, the hood was down. His light brown hair was shorn close to his scalp. And, though he couldn’t have been much older than thirty, his features gave him a hardened appearance. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, not at all, but he looked like he’d seen far more than he should have for his years.
There was only one person on the island who fit that description, and I guessed from the two potted, white-flowering plants that he held carefully cradled—one in each