Led into Temptation Read online

  Dane thought so, too. But Ian might have better luck than the local police.

  When Naomi dropped one of her shopping bags, he shifted his gaze to her and frowned again. Her hand was visibly shaking as she reached for it. He moved toward her, took her arm with one hand and then lifted the shopping bags. He glanced back at Nate. “The adrenaline rush is wearing off. I’m going to drive her back to the hotel.”

  “Good plan. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Me, too,” Molly said with a wave.

  “I’m fine,” Naomi muttered when they reached the parking lot.

  “You will be.” When he heard the hint of sharpness in his tone, Dane drew in a deep breath and let it out. He’d better remember who he was supposed to be. Father MacFarland. Good listener. Confessor. Confidant. New best friend.

  When they reached the Corvette, he removed his hand from her arm and held it out for the car keys. Then he watched carefully as she retrieved them. As she did, he got an even closer look at the purse. It was small, about seven inches by four, and it folded to snap at the top like an envelope. It was a lot smaller than the huge tote she’d carried around for the entire time he’d had her under surveillance. What had happened to it? he wondered. But it wasn’t a question Father MacFarland could ask.

  “Here.” She dropped the keys into his hand.

  “Good girl,” he murmured.

  Her eyes flew to his. “No way. That was the old Naomi Brightman. She was the good girl.”

  Tilting his head to one side, he studied her for a moment. There was a martial light in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before. “I was referring to the fact that your hands aren’t trembling anymore.”

  She held them out in front of her, noted that they were steady. “Oh.”

  “I still think I should drive.” After stowing the shopping bags and his duffel in the trunk, he escorted her to the passenger side and opened the door. “Of course, my motives are somewhat suspect. Priests don’t get a lot of chances to drive a Corvette.”

  Instead of climbing in, she leaned against the side of the car and met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Because I don’t get to drive fast convertibles?”

  “No.” The corners of her mouth twitched. “I haven’t thanked you for what you did back there.”

  “I didn’t do much. It looked to me as though you had the situation under control.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I was just so mad.”

  Dane’s mouth curved. “I got that much.”

  “I really wanted to hurt that man. Badly. If you hadn’t come along, I might have done some real damage.”

  “Or gotten hurt pretty badly yourself. He was a big guy. And he wanted your purse. In spite of the double whammy you delivered, he might have rallied and taken you with him.”

  She waved a hand. “That was not going to happen. The purse belongs to Jillian. I didn’t even ask her if I could borrow it. Not that she would mind. My borrowing it, I mean. She definitely would have minded the man stealing it.”

  “Why did you borrow it?” Dane kept his tone casual, mildly curious.

  She waved a hand again. “I decided I wanted—I needed—a change, and I didn’t want to lug that tote around anymore. The purse is a symbol. Little steps.”

  “Little steps?” Dane asked.

  “It’s a way to ease into making a change in your life. You know, one step at a time. The big tote I carry around is a kind of talisman for me. It’s Prada. My sisters gave it to me when I left for college, and it cost them a fortune. I’ve used it ever since.”

  “Would you have let the thief take your tote?” Dane asked.

  Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Good question. A week ago, maybe. Not today. Not anymore—ever.”

  Pushing herself away from the car, she paced a few feet and whirled to face him again. “It wasn’t just about the purse. When I turned and saw him heading toward me, it was the last straw. I’ve had some…problems lately. And I’d felt I was being watched earlier before I went into Discoveries. So I just couldn’t let that man push me around. It was time for me to take a stand. Can you understand that?”

  “I think so. You’ve had a rough time lately, lots of pressure.” Not to mention the betrayal, the heartbreak. “I’d say you’ve been handling things pretty well.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You know about the Boston stuff.”

  “Priests watch CNN and read the newspapers. It’s easy enough to understand how you might use the jerk who tried to snatch your purse as a scapegoat.”

  “Scapegoat.” She spoke the word as if she were testing it. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I did. Except usually scapegoats are more innocent than he was. In addition to being a symbol for the people who have been giving me a lot of grief, he also wanted to steal my purse. He deserved a good smack in the face.”

  “True enough.”

  She frowned. “But I’m not usually like that.”

  “Like what?”

  She waved a hand. “I felt like some kind of avenging angel.”

  It was as good a description as any, Dane thought. Standing there in the parking lot, with her hair a tumble of red and gold and the strap of her sundress falling off one shoulder, she exuded a kind of valor he might have associated with Joan of Arc.

  Without thinking, he moved forward and adjusted the strap of the sundress. The instant his fingers brushed against her skin, he couldn’t resist the temptation to close his hand over her shoulder. A sensation of torrid, liquid heat ran through him, and his focus narrowed to her. Only her.

  Everything else spun away—the Corvette, the parking lot, the noise of passersby on the street. All he knew was the quick hitch of her breath, the pulse quickening at her throat, and the way her eyes had darkened to a deep sea-green, the kind a man could drown in. Willingly. Flashes of the fantasies he’d entertained in the coffee shop filled his mind, making it too easy—much too easy—to forget that he shouldn’t be touching her. That he couldn’t pull her close and satisfy the edgy need that raged inside of him each time he saw her.

  Naomi couldn’t think at all. The searing intensity she saw in Dane’s eyes blocked out reason, logic, words. All she could do was feel the panicked excitement prickling along her nerve endings, the brutal pounding of her heart against her chest, the burning of her lungs as the air grew too thick to breathe.

  All she could see was him standing so close that his heat enveloped her. And his scent—something musky—had her head spinning, her bones melting. Her whole body yearned for him with a hunger she’d never known before. When she swayed, his hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her close. For one heady moment, she felt what it was like to have every hard angle of his body pressed against hers. Each contact point set off dozens of explosions of pleasure. Her skin was still vibrating with the shocks when the blaring horn of the noon ferry blasted the air.

  Just as quickly as he’d pulled her close, he set her away. The jarring sense of loss was so acute that it took a moment for reality to trickle in. The second long blast of the ferry’s horn helped. By the time it faded, Naomi could hear the laughter of passersby, the noise of a car backfiring. She found she was leaning against the fender of the car. Good thing because she couldn’t feel her legs.

  “Are you all right?” Dane asked.

  She nodded, not certain that her voice would work yet. And if it did, she couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t beg him to touch her again and to…what? To make love to her right there in a public parking lot in the middle of Belle Bay?

  He said nothing more but merely opened the passenger door and waited for her to climb in. She did, grateful that her body was once more connected to her brain. Then he walked around the car and slid in behind the wheel.

  Still throbbing, she studied his profile as he drove the Corvette out of the parking lot. She wanted to ask him if he’d felt any part of what she’d felt in that brief contact. Were his thoughts still swimming as hers were? Was his body still pulsing with wild, urgen
t needs?

  And what were they going to do about it? That’s the question that kept her head spinning as he drove them out of Belle Bay.

  CAREFUL TO KEEP his simmering anger on a tight leash, Michael Davenport stowed his fishing pole and tackle box and climbed into his car. Things were not going as smoothly as he’d expected.

  And they should have been. Up until now, everything had unfolded the way he’d known it would. Naomi had taken her first opportunity to flee Boston and come to Belle Island. And she’d brought the money.

  All he had to do now was bide his time until the perfect opportunity presented itself to take back from her what belonged to him. He’d been sure that today might be his lucky day when he’d happened to overhear a snatch of conversation between two of the hotel staff. Mr. Cooper’s Corvette was to be brought around at ten-thirty sharp because Ms. Brightman was driving into the village.

  He’d quickly stowed his hedge clippers into his duffel and slipped away. His plan had been to reach the village before she did and then wait for the right time to approach her.

  It would be risky, but not nearly as risky as trying to make any kind of move on her at the hotel. Once in Belle Bay, he’d chosen to wait for her at the small café on the end of the pier where she’d lunched the previous day with Avery Cooper. From his vantage point, he hadn’t had the best view of the small drama that had unfolded two blocks away. But he’d seen enough to know that it had been more Keystone Cops than Mission: Impossible.

  But they’d nearly gotten Naomi’s purse. And that had given him a few very bad moments. He was almost sure that she didn’t have what he wanted in it. But still…if she had…

  When the anger surged, he drew in a calming breath. The man who’d pressured him into a partnership was no doubt behind the totally mishandled snatch-and-grab. He was a bungler, and he would pay for this. Michael started his car and pulled out of his parking space.

  On the upside, he’d now learned two things about his partner. The man knew more than Michael had previously thought, and he was becoming more and more of a loose cannon.

  The little problem of his partner could be dealt with—would be dealt with, he thought as he left the village. He knew how to handle troublesome partners.

  What had disturbed him more was the difference in Naomi between yesterday and today. There’d been something about her earlier when she’d arrived in Belle Bay in the red Corvette. It wasn’t just the windblown hair. It was the way she’d walked. And the purse—it wasn’t the one she always carried. That was totally out of character. Then there was that unexpected moment when she’d noticed him at the table on the patio.

  He was confident that his disguise had held. But he didn’t like the fact that her attention had been drawn to him in the first place.

  Even more disturbing was the woman who’d stepped out of the small boutique up the street. She was a sharp right turn from the Naomi Brightman he’d dated for the past six months. The clothes were part of it, he supposed. But not all.

  Definitely, not all.

  And that was another complication.

  Most of his success in the past had been based on his ability to read people. But the Termagant who’d struggled with the would-be purse snatcher and bloodied his nose didn’t mesh at all with the woman he’d known.

  Dammit. He slammed his hand down hard on the steering wheel. Thanks to his stupid partner and Naomi, he was going to have to speed up his plan. And speed often led to mistakes.

  He’d have to be very careful not to make one. There was too much at stake.

  His frown deepened as the car began to climb the long hill to the hotel. The priest also bothered him. The man had looked vaguely familiar, but he hadn’t been able to place him. That didn’t bother him as much as the fact that the cleric had just been too Johnny-on-the-spot. And he’d appeared out of nowhere.

  There were bound to be people watching Naomi, hoping that he would contact her. A priest would make a very good cover.

  His cell phone rang as he rounded the curve and headed toward the employee parking lot of Haworth House.

  “Well,” the voice said.

  “The men you hired didn’t get Naomi’s purse.”

  There were two beats of silence on the other end of the line. “What are you talking about?”

  Michael laughed. “I’m talking about the failed snatch-and-grab that has all of Belle Bay talking. I watched the whole fiasco from the pier. Ms. Brightman nearly cleaned your guy’s clock. Luckily, your two goons managed to get away. If they hadn’t, they might be talking to the local sheriff right now. And blabbing about who hired them. I hope you were discreet.”

  This time the silence was longer and gave Davenport a great deal of satisfaction.

  “Even if your purse theft had been successful, you wouldn’t have gotten the money. All that risk for nothing.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I know just where the money is. If you want to see any of it, you’ll let me do this my way.”

  Another beat of silence.

  “So what’s your plan?” his unhappy partner asked.

  He laughed again into the phone. “I have several. But it would be better if I didn’t have to worry about extra players.” Then he hung up.

  He still had time. And he was close to Naomi. He could get to her whenever he wanted to.

  7

  THE MOMENT THAT Dane MacFarland pulled to a stop in front of Haworth House, Avery Cooper ran down the front steps. “Are you all right?” He drew Naomi out of the car, then held her at arm’s length to study her. “He didn’t hurt you?” He turned to Dane. “Nate said you were there, Father, that you intervened.”

  “She was doing all right on her own,” Dane said.

  “I’m fine.” It was the truth as far as her scuffle with the purse was involved. She hadn’t thought of it at all on the fast ride up the hill to the hotel. Dane and what had happened in the parking lot had pushed the incident right out of her mind. “How did you hear about it so quickly?”

  “This is Belle Island.” Avery frowned and shook his head. “Purses don’t get snatched here.”

  She lifted her chin. “No, they don’t. At least not from me.”

  Avery drew her into a hard hug. “That’s my girl. C’mon in. I’ll order you some tea or brandy. Or champagne to celebrate the obvious success of your shopping spree.”

  Good grief, she’d pushed the new clothes out of her mind, too. Naomi managed a smile. “I’ll pass on the drinks. I’m going to unpack all the stuff I bought.”

  As Avery drew her up the steps, she felt her brain cells begin to click. Distance. That was the key. If she could just keep away from Dane for a while, she could figure everything out and decide what she was going to do.

  “We have an appointment at one-thirty.”

  Dane’s words had her whirling around on the top step to face him. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and she felt that immediate pull so strongly that, if Avery hadn’t been holding her arm, she might have run right back down to him.

  He was wearing sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t tell if he was the priest or the man. Her gaze lowered to his mouth. That belonged to the man, and she wanted it pressed against hers. He was still standing on the other side of the Corvette, but even at that distance, she could almost taste it, almost feel it close over hers.

  Desperately, she tried to push the outrageously tempting thought away. But she couldn’t stop the torrid rush of heat that flooded her senses.

  If she could taste him, just once, maybe she could be free.

  He walked around the car, lifted her shopping bags out and handed them to a waiting staff member. Then as he climbed the steps, he met her eyes again. “Unless you’d rather postpone…”

  Distance, she reminded herself. Taking Dane MacFarland for a walk along a private beach wasn’t going to provide that. It was much more likely to get her…“I’ll meet you here at one-thirty.”

  He nodded. “See you the
n.”

  Naomi kept her eyes on him until he disappeared into the lobby of the hotel.

  “I could take him off your hands,” Avery said. “I know every spot the island has to offer. Then you could rest.”

  Rest? She wasn’t sure she would ever rest again. Not until… “No, I’ll take him.”

  A dark, guilty thrill moved through her at the thought of doing just that.

  Avery tipped up her chin and studied her face. “You’re up to something, sugar.”

  “No.” She felt the heat rise in her face and she pressed a hand against the nerves jittering in her stomach. “Maybe…I don’t know.” She couldn’t actually be thinking of doing…what she was thinking. “Absolutely not.”

  “Right.” Avery slung an arm around her shoulder and gave her a friendly squeeze. “I’ve been there and done that more times than I can count. I’ll have the kitchen pack you a lunch for your little beach excursion.”

  “CALL ME AS SOON AS you get anything on that license plate, Ian,” Dane said. He’d phoned his brother the moment he’d reached his room. “And if you get a name we can use, one that belongs to a real person, I’d like to know who hired them.”

  “Will do. You sound worried.”

  “Davenport is in town.”

  “You saw him?”

  “For a split second. My attention was divided because Naomi was being stalked by the guy who tried to snatch the purse.” And if he hadn’t been convinced that Naomi was in danger, he might have gotten his hands on Davenport.

  “Did he recognize you?” Ian asked.

  “I doubt it. Three years ago in Kansas City our meeting was very brief, and I was wearing a disguise.”

  “And he thought he’d killed you along with his partner.”

  “Yeah.” Dane pressed a hand against the small bullet scar on his lower back from his last encounter with Davenport. “So even if he thought I looked familiar, he’s unlikely to make the connection.” He’d been lucky that day. And thanks to him, Davenport’s partner hadn’t. He’d been the one who’d convinced her to set a trap.