The Mighty Quinns: Rourke (4 page)

“I can imagine,” he said.

“I think everyone should at least try to reduce the impact they have on our environment. It’s just healthier. For me and the planet.”

“What about a car?”

“I don’t have one. I bike into town. In the winter, I walk. It’s only three miles. It’s good exercise.”

He’d never known anyone quite like her. And Rourke had known a lot of women. Though he’d admired beauty and wit in the opposite sex, there had always been something he found lacking in his female companions. But here was a woman who was strong and independent. She had courage and determination and a quiet confidence that he found endlessly attractive.

He was curious about her life. How had she transformed herself from that painfully shy girl with the stutter into a strong, capable woman? “You remembered my name,” he said.

Annie nodded. “You were kind to me once.”

“You’ve changed. A lot.”

“I’ve grown up.” She paused. “You probably mean the stammer? That disappeared after I got out of school. I didn’t want to live my life in a constant state of fear and I reached a point where I just stopped fighting. I didn’t feel it necessary to defend myself anymore. I found an inner calm and I think my mind caught up with my words.”

“You seem happy,” Rourke said.

“I am.”

“But you don’t have many friends on the island.”

“I don’t need a lot of friends. Those that I have are good to me. Besides, how many true friends do we really have? Most people in your life are acquaintances not friends. How many would come to you if you called?”

He shrugged. She was right. He didn’t have that many good friends. He could count them on one hand. The whistle from the teakettle shattered the silence between them and Rourke stood up and walked back to the stove. He poured the water into the pot.

“There’s a strainer on the stove,” she said.

He tossed the strainer into one of the mugs, then carried everything over to the hearth, carefully setting the china pot on the flat stone. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

“All the time,” she said. “But there’s really not much I can do about it. Leaving the island would be like cutting out a part of my heart.”

“Have you
ever
left the island?” he asked.

This brought a laugh. “Of course I have. All the time.”

He could see it in her eyes. She was lying. But now was not the time to call her on it. “I live in New York,” he said.

“Good for you. When I imagine living my life there, it seems as difficult to me as my life here seems to you.”

A gust of wind rattled the windows and they both turned to look. “It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

Annie crawled out of her chair and sat down next to him on the hearth. Rourke felt his pulse quicken and he held tight to his tea in an effort not to reach out and touch her. But she had other ideas. She set her mug down and reached out, placing her hand on his cheek. Then, her gaze fixed on his, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his.

The contact sent a jolt running through him, like being struck by lightning. Only it wasn’t painful, but warm and pleasurable. He set his mug down beside him and slipped his fingers through her hair, pulling her into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent than the first.

Rourke wasn’t sure what was happening, but he wasn’t about to stop it. From the moment he’d seen her in the hardware store, he’d wanted this to happen. He’d just never expected to get the chance. And now that he was here, Rourke wasn’t going to waste another moment.

His fingers twisted in the damp strands of her hair, but suddenly he heard her gasp and Rourke drew back. He’d forgotten about the cut on her scalp. “Let me look,” he said.

“It’s really much better,” she said. “It just stings a little.”

The interior of the cabin was dimly lit, the sun already down and the lamps providing a feeble kind of light. He gently examined her injury by the glow of the fire and found the spot. There was a substantial knot around the cut, but it looked as if it had stopped bleeding.

“I don’t think it will need stitches.”

“Good,” she said. “I hate going to the doctor.”

“What the hell were you doing out there?” Rourke asked. “You’ve lived by the ocean your entire life. Surely you know better than anyone how dangerous it can be.” He paused. “And what was the herring for? Who buys twenty pounds of bait before a storm?”

“Are you hungry? I should make us something for dinner.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he asked. “What were you doing?”

“Talking to the sea,” she said. “When it gets like this, sometimes I think I can hear voices in the wind. If I just listen hard enough, I think I might be able to hear what they’re saying.”

“Voices? Whose voices?”

“My parents’,” she said softly. He saw a blush rise on her cheeks. “It’s silly. I know.”

Rourke said, “No, it’s not. It’s not.” He wanted to ask her what had happened. Town gossip had never gone into great detail. He knew they’d both drowned, but he wasn’t sure of the circumstances. No one in town had ever offered an explanation and until now, it really hadn’t mattered to him.

“I really should stop. This time it almost got me killed.”

“I guess you were lucky I was there,” he said.

She nodded. “I guess I was.” Annie tucked her feet up beneath her and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Are you sure you don’t have someplace you need to be?”

“Actually, I was on my way home to New York. I was hoping to put a few miles behind me before the storm hit. But I can stay.”

“Maybe you should bring your things in before the weather gets too bad. I’ll just get dinner started.”

Rourke nodded. He stood, grabbed his jacket and slipped into it. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Kit,” she said.

Rourke patted his thigh and the dog looked up from where he was sleeping by the fire. “Come on, boy.”

The border collie jumped to his feet and scampered to the door, then hurried out in front of Rourke. As he walked down the steps, he noticed that the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped close to freezing. If it got any colder, the rain might become ice or snow.

He moved toward the water. The color of the sky and sea now blended together until the horizon was almost impossible to see. The wind gusts were strong enough to test his balance and within minutes, his fingers had gone numb from the cold.

Kit stood beside him, sniffing at the wind. Rourke reached down and gave him a pat on the head. She wasn’t entirely alone, he mused. And maybe she would have been fine without his help. But Rourke couldn’t regret his impulse to stop and check on her.

After all, she’d kissed him. And he hadn’t been kissed—or touched—by a woman since he’d arrived on the island. It was rather ironic that all this was happening the day he decided to head home. He wasn’t going to question the timing. Whatever happened tonight between them could be a powerful counterpoint to the storm.

2

“C
AN
YOU
PEEL
potatoes?” Annie glanced over her shoulder at Rourke. He sat at the kitchen table, watching her move about the kitchen as she prepared dinner. “I think I can manage,” he said. “Unless you’re going to make me do it with a knife.”

“I do have a vegetable peeler.” She reached into a wicker basket on the shelf above the sink and grabbed it, then placed some potatoes in a bowl.

“I wasn’t sure you had one of these newfangled things,” he said, holding up the peeler.

“I’m glad you find my life so amusing.”

Rourke picked up a potato. “Not amusing. Endlessly fascinating.” His gaze met hers and Annie felt a shiver skitter down her spine. The longer they were cooped up in this cottage, the harder it was to deny the attraction between them. It was like waiting for the storm to hit. She wasn’t sure when it was going to happen, but it would happen. And when it did it would be powerful and impossible to ignore.

“I like being self-sufficient,” she said. “I like not having to depend on anyone.”

“Someone brings you wood.”

“I could get my own wood,” she said. “It would just take so much time out of my day that it wouldn’t be worth it. But I could do it.”

“I’m sure you could,” Rourke said. “I suspect you could do just about anything you set your mind to.”

She grabbed a small bunch of carrots she’d brought up from the root cellar and sat down, placing them on the table. Cupping her chin in her hand, she observed him as he peeled the potatoes. Annie was used to doing things her own way, so she fought the urge to give him advice.

“It’s going to be a long night,” she murmured.

Rourke glanced up. “Are you worried?”

She shook her head. Storms usually put her on edge, but Annie felt remarkably calm. Rourke was a wonderful distraction. “I like having you here. I’m glad you stayed.”

“Is that why you kissed me?” he asked.

Annie wondered when the subject of their kiss would come up. She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not sure why I did that.”

“Oh, come on,” Rourke said. “I know enough about you already to know that you never do anything without a reason. So tell me, Annie. Why did you kiss me?”

He was right. She was the least impulsive person on all of Cape Breton Island. “I wanted to let you know I was...interested. And what about you? Are you interested?”

“Interested in kissing you again? The answer to that would be yes. I’m very interested.”

“I think we should try it again,” Annie said.

“Now? Because, I think now would be as good a time as any.”

“All right,” she said. They stared at each other across the table. “Are you going to come to me or am I going to come to you?”

“I think you should come to me,” Rourke suggested.

Annie wiped her damp hands on a dish towel, then slowly stood. As she circled the table, her heart began to race and she felt as if her knees would buckle. When she stood in front of him, she reached out to smooth her hand through his thick, dark hair. But he caught her fingers and opened her hand, pressing his lips to the center of her palm.

She watched as he slipped his hands around her waist and gently drew her closer. Nuzzling his face against her belly, Rourke drew a long, deep breath. When he looked up at her again, Annie could see that they weren’t going to stop at just one kiss.

Furrowing her fingers through his hair, she tipped his face up. Slowly, she sank down until their mouths were nearly touching. His breath was warm on her lips, but she waited, resisting the urge to surrender. But Rourke wasn’t nearly so determined. With a low moan, he yanked her into a kiss, pulling her into his lap at the same time.

The depth of his passion startled her at first. It felt as if they’d skipped a few steps along the way. But Annie wasn’t going to fight him. This was exactly what she was hoping would happen. They had the whole night ahead of them and this was a promising beginning to it all.

His kiss was determined, almost desperate, searching for the perfect melding of their mouths. His fingers twisted through the hair at her nape and when he finally drew back, his breath came in short gasps. He moved to kiss her again, but Kit suddenly jumped up from his spot next to the fire and began to bark at the door.

A few moments later, a knock sounded. Annie glanced down at him. “Are you expecting company?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said. She ran her fingers through her hair as she walked to the door. When she pulled it open, a gust of wind nearly tore it from her hands. A tall, slender figure stepped inside and when he pushed his hood away from his face, she recognized Sam Decker. He was still dressed in his uniform from his job as a regional police officer and Annie wasn’t sure if the visit was personal or professional.

Sam quickly took his cap off and smiled at her. “Hey, it’s getting nasty out there.”

“Hi, Sam,” she murmured.

He started to shrug out of his jacket before he noticed Rourke sitting across the room. He frowned, then glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Quinn. I heard you were on your way off the island.” He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I just stopped by to check on Annie,” Rourke said. “What about you?”

“Same. I just wanted to check...to make sure she had enough wood to get her through the storm.”

“You brought wood just last week,” Annie interrupted.

“We’re fine here,” Rourke said. “We have everything we need, right, Annie?”

“I didn’t realize you two were...friends,” Sam said.

Annie nodded. “We’ve known each other since we were kids,” she said.

Sam shrugged. “Is your cell phone charged?”

Annie nodded and took his arm, leading him back to the door. “If I need any help, I’ll be sure to call.”

Sam nodded reluctantly. “All right, then. I’m on duty tonight and my advice is to stay inside. If there’s trouble, dial 911.”

She opened the door and let him out, then closed it behind her, leaning against the scarred wood. Rourke slowly stood and crossed the room. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Are you sure you wanted him to leave?” he murmured, leaning close.

“Yes,” Annie replied, her pulse quickening. She’d done this before, but it had never felt quite so dangerous. There were feelings here, emotions that she couldn’t quite describe. She felt vulnerable and out of control, but Annie couldn’t seem to stop herself from wanting him.

“When was the last time you kissed him?” Rourke murmured.

“Who?”

“Sam Decker.”

“I’ve never kissed Sam,” she said.

“He wants to kiss you,” Rourke said. “It’s written all over his face.”

“He has too many expectations.”

“Expectations?”

“He thinks he wants to take care of me. He wants to marry me. But I’m not looking for anything like that.”

“You just like having sex with strangers?”

“Not strangers. I prefer...uncomplicated men.”

“Is that what I am, Annie?”

“You were on your way home. And I expect you will be again once the storm passes. That makes things between us very simple.”

“So you’re just using me for sex?”

Annie laughed. “That’s putting it rather bluntly.”

“I think we ought to be clear about our intentions, don’t you?”

It sounded as if the notion of no-strings sex was insulting to him. But then, maybe he was just teasing her. Or maybe he wanted to be sure of her motives. “No expectations,” she said.

“All right. But if you expect me to jump into bed with you, you could at least give me dinner first.”

Annie smiled. “All right. I do have a bottle of wine we could share.” She moved to a cabinet near the sink and pulled a bottle of Merlot out. When she found the corkscrew, she opened the wine and poured it into two mismatched jelly jars. “I don’t have proper wineglasses. These are recycled.”

He raised the jelly glass. “To the storm that brought us together,” he said.

Annie touched her glass to his. “The storm.”

As she sipped her wine and cut vegetables for the lentil stew, Annie listened to the wind howl outside and the shutters rattle. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. In her mind she was already undressing him and pulling his naked body onto the bed with her. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man as much as she wanted him.

They’d have one night together. But would that be enough? Or would she be left wanting more?

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
dinner was over, they’d gone through Annie’s bottle of wine. She’d offered him whiskey, but Rourke already felt the effects of the wine and he wanted to keep his wits about him.

It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to drag her off to the comfortable bed tucked into the corner near the hearth. They both knew what they wanted, but for some reason, Annie had chosen to prolong his agony.

After finishing the dishes, she’d grabbed a book and curled up in the overstuffed chair near the fire, an oil lamp providing scant light to read by. Rourke was left to pace the cabin, peering out the window of the kitchen door and wondering why she was delaying the inevitable.

Every twenty seconds, a beam from the lighthouse swept across the sky, illuminating the wind-driven rain and the bent trees. “The rain is turning to sleet,” he murmured.

She glanced up from her book. “Hmm. It’s gotten colder.”

“Are you cold? I can put more wood on the fire.”

“There comes a point when it doesn’t do any good. The fire can’t keep up with the dropping temperatures.”

“What do you do then?”

“Crawl beneath the covers and pull them up over my head.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Was she suggesting it was time to go to bed? And was she inviting him to crawl in beside her?

Annie seemed completely unconcerned about the weather. Rourke wanted to know the details of the storm, how long it would last, how much rain they’d get, whether the waves were breaking over the Canso Causeway yet. If he were at his uncle’s place, he’d turn on the Weather Network and all his questions would be answered. “You said you had a radio?”

She nodded.

“I think I’m going to see if I can find a weather report.”

Annie shook her head. “The batteries are dead,” she said. “I forgot to get some new ones.”

“I have batteries. I bought them at the hardware store earlier.”

She sighed. “I’m not sure where it is,” Annie said. “It’s just an old transistor.”

“Don’t you think it might be good to know what’s going on out there?”

“Listening to the radio isn’t going to make the storm go away,” she said. “When it’s done, it’s done. It will stop raining and the wind will stop blowing and everything will get back to normal. If you want to know what the storm is doing, then you should go outside and see for yourself.”

“You’re crazy,” he said.

Annie closed the book and got to her feet. “Come on. I’ll show you. I do it all the time.”

She slipped her bare feet into a pair of wellies, then pulled her slicker off the hook near the door. “It’s freezing out there. Put that cap on. And don’t forget your gloves.”

“We don’t need to go outside,” he insisted.

“I want to see how high the storm surge is.” Annie picked up a lantern from the table near the door, lit it, then stepped outside. Rourke frowned. There was absolutely no telling her what to do. For some odd reason, he found that one of her most endearing qualities.

Rourke quickly pulled on his jacket. He found her waiting for him on the porch. Annie held out her hand and they stepped into the midst of the storm.

The strong wind made it hard to stand upright, but they both leaned into it. Sleet stung his cheeks and he could barely see a few feet in front of him, even with the flickering lantern. But he knew, without a doubt, that he’d never forget this experience.

Kit danced around their feet, then ran off into the darkness, barking. He could smell the sea in the air and could hear the crash of the waves on the rocks. It seemed that every sense in his body had become sharply attuned.

They stopped near the shore and stared out at the horizon. With each pass of the light, they could see the angry water, the spray of the waves and the flood of water reaching farther onto the shore. The house was set at least thirty feet higher than the sea and safe from the worst surge.

“You’re right,” he shouted.

She looked over at him. He could see that she was mouthing a word, then realized it was impossible to hear each other in the roar of the storm. Instead, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. His lips came down on hers, cold and damp. But as she opened to his kiss, a wonderful warmth flooded through his bloodstream. The wind buffeted them, threatening to knock them off their feet, but he held tight to her as the kiss intensified.

When he finally drew back, he could barely see her face. He reached down and ran his thumb over her cold cheek, cupping her face in his hands. “I think we should go inside,” he shouted.

“Come with me,” she replied. Annie grabbed his hand and drew him deeper into the storm. They ran toward the lighthouse, the beam of light guiding the way. When they reached the door, she pulled a key from her jacket pocket and unlocked it. They stumbled inside, Kit scampering in, too, and shut the door behind them.

A moment later, Rourke heard a switch flip and the interior was flooded in light. He stared at the spacious room, a circular iron stair dominating the center. Like most of the lighthouses on Cape Breton, this was a pyramidal-shaped tower that narrowed as it got taller. Annie walked over to a small painted table and set the lantern down. She grabbed her cell phone, holding it up to him as she unplugged it. “Charged,” she said.

The room was quite cozy, with antique furniture scattered around the perimeter. “Bathroom is through that door,” she said. “If you want to take a hot shower, you have to turn on the water heater and wait about an hour.”

“I don’t need a shower,” he said. “At least not now.”

Rourke wandered over to the table and examined the old radio sitting on top of it. He flipped it on and found it turned to a station playing Celtic music. The strains of fiddle and mandolin echoed upward.