Wild: Whispering Cove, Book 1 Read online

  “Dammit.” Her heart throbbed so loudly, it pounded like war drums in her head.

  One. Two. Three. Counting was her way of controlling her breathing. It gave her much needed time to pull herself together.

  When she could think rationally again, she let out a hoarse chuckle. It was times like these she appreciated a big city where a cab could be hailed anytime, day or night. Here in this little seaport village, everyone slept, so she was on her own to make the mile hike to her grandfather’s home.

  A gentle breeze feathered back her hair. Andrea’s plan was simple. Drop her bags off at the house, and maybe by then the local cab company would be available to take her to the hospital. From there she would be able to decide her next move.

  Sand in her heels slowed her steps, but even after ten years she could make this trip with her eyes closed. A sudden wave of melancholy squeezed her chest. A long time ago, she had loved this beach, this ocean, this town.

  When she reached the front porch of her grandfather’s beach house, she exhaled a weighted breath. She released her bags and they dropped with a thud. Immediately she cringed, remembering her laptop. Kneeling beside an old flower pot filled with white turtleheads, their sturdy blooms closed as if they slept, she tipped the planter and searched blindly for the spare key her grandfather always kept there, but it was missing.

  “Great!” Pushing to her feet, she stomped down the stairs and headed around the house.

  Mock-orange hedges made it difficult for her to access the first window that led into the living room, but she pushed through. Several of the branches bit into her legs. Getting a firm grip on the frame, she pushed upward and grunted. The window was locked. She had no better luck with the next two.

  Exhausted, frustrated and more than a little peeved, she made her way around to the darkened back porch. With each step her temper built. Let there be no doubt in anyone’s mind she was redheaded and Irish. She might have learned to tame her ire throughout the years, but if the door knew what was best, it would not be locked. If she had to, she’d toss the old rocking chair next to it through the window.

  Consequences be damned.

  Andrea didn’t make it to the door before something struck her back with the strength of a battering ram thrusting her forward so she collided with the house. The impact pushed the breath from her lungs. Before she could inhale, strong hands grabbed her wrists and flung them over her head. Forcing and slapping her palms hard enough against the siding so that they stung. Fear paralyzed her.

  A scream desperately clawed its way up her throat, but evaporated on a whimper when a solid kick sent her ankles apart. Spread-eagled and helpless against the wall, she trembled and her mind went blank. All her self-defense training vanished. Even when the man pressed his imposing body to her back, flattening her tight against the house, she couldn’t think, couldn’t react. Something deep and menacing was muttered into her ear, but she was too scared, too panicked to decipher his words.

  When his large, threatening palms started to move up her naked calves, she choked back a feeble cry. He intimately stroked the inside of her thighs, causing her eyes to widen with knowledge that she was about to be raped. No way could she just let it happen without a struggle.

  Red-hot anger flickered to life, fed by her fear. In this position she couldn’t maneuver a strike to any vital areas. So she did the only thing she had available. Breathing in, she released a long, high-pitched scream, which was abruptly ripped away when he jerked her around to face him. At the same time a flash of light blinded her and her eyelids squeezed shut. Before she could regain her senses a surprised gasp followed by a soft murmur of her name made her freeze.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Squinting, she pried her eyes open and once again found herself without oxygen, robbed of her anger, but not her apprehension. The man’s face bathed in shadows from the porch light was the last person she had expected to run into thirty minutes after she set foot in Whispering Cove.

  Andrea wasn’t prepared to see Brody McGrath again. Not here. Not now.

  Sometime after the lights had come on, his hands had settled on her hips. The pressure of his fingers teased her senses, sending a wayward chill up her spine. She couldn’t have masked the tremor even if she tried.

  When his grip slid to her waist, with only the thin, silky shirt between them, she gulped down a mouthful of air that nearly suffocated her. Unexpected tears gathered behind her eyelids, making her nose tingle and her face heat. Even after ten years, her desire for Brody had not waned.

  “Andie?” Her gaze rose to meet his. Hazel eyes, more blue than green against his navy uniform, were wide and filled with something close to disbelief. “Is it really you?”

  Maturity hadn’t erased the deep sensuality in his voice. Whether it was on the telephone or in person, she had loved listening to him, especially when he was aroused and holding her, telling her how much he cared.

  What was she thinking? She had loved everything about him.

  “You’re a policeman?” Her first words to the man she’d loved and hadn’t seen for ten years was about his occupation. Smooth.

  Andrea had no idea where the question came from or even why her mind headed in that direction. Of course, the polished badge, nightstick and gun strapped to his hips were a dead giveaway. Or maybe she was trying to redirect her attention from his full lips, lips that had teased and taunted her dreams over the years. A strained smile tipped the corners of his mouth and all her good intentions flew out the window. Andrea sighed before she could stop herself.

  “I’m the sheriff. Here. In Whispering Cove.” He shifted his feet, before slightly lowering his head, positioning his mouth a breath away from hers.

  Oh God.

  Andrea’s pulse jumped into her throat. Moving a foot, she tried to take a step back, but he caught her, pulling her to him. Their bodies melded together. Even light couldn’t slide between them.

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

  Locking one arm behind her, he trailed the fingertips of his other hand across her cheek. “Is it really you? After all this time?” He held her and touched her, as if he still couldn’t believe she stood before him.

  Did he still care?

  A terse chuckle burst from her mouth on a breathy exhale. “I’m afraid so.” A warm, woodsy scent wrapped around her like a blanket. Brody had always worn cologne, preferring the earthy tones.

  A frown creased his forehead. “But I heard you weren’t attending the reunion.”

  Good news traveled fast in a small town. “I’m not. I mean…” She paused, working to get her heart to stop beating so fast. “I didn’t come home for the reunion.”

  Both of his arms wrapped around her again. “Then why? Why did you come home?”

  The need to pull away was strong, a survival impulse, but she didn’t move. “Grandpa is in the—”

  The screen door creaked open and the man she referred to stepped out onto the porch. A smile on his face stretched from ear to ear. “Well, laddie…will you be releasing me granddaughter or frisking her?”

  Brody’s hands jerked back so quickly that Andrea swayed to recover her balance. “Yes, sir! I mean…no, sir.” He pushed his fingers through ebony hair so dark that it flickered a blue tint in places beneath the light. “Shit,” he groaned, before casting a sheepish glance in her grandfather’s direction. “You said you had a prowler outside your house.”

  Heat surged across her cheeks. “Grandpa! You called the police?” Andrea couldn’t believe this. No wonder Brody had treated her like a criminal. He thought she was trying to break in.

  Oh yeah. She was trying to break in.

  “That I did.” There was no apology in her grandfather’s tone. Instead, he stepped back and held the door open. “Come inside before you wake the neighbors.” Andrea had just passed through the door when he spoke again. “Brody, would you be a good laddie and fetch her luggage out front?”

 
; Andrea couldn’t help it, but her suspicious mind began to churn. “How did you know where my luggage was?”

  He cocked a brushy brow. “It’s not here beside you. Where else would it be?” Pivoting, he placed his hand in the small of her back and ushered her inside while Brody disappeared around the house.

  Upon entering the kitchen, she was assailed by a host of memories, but this time they made her smile. When her grandmother was alive there was always something cooking on the stove or in the oven. Even now Andrea could almost smell the fresh scent of zucchini bread or oyster fritters. “Nothing has changed.” From the seashell curtains along the bay window to the copper pots and pans hanging over the large island, it was just like she remembered.

  “When something is perfect, lass, there be no need for improvement. Now come here and give your grandpa a hug.”

  Taking the necessary steps to close the distance between them, Andrea fell into his arms. His embrace was warm and inviting. Arms that had held her when she cried, and refused to release her when she had told him she had to leave Whispering Cove.

  “I’ve missed you.” Was that a tear she heard in his voice?

  She bit her bottom lip to keep the emotion at bay. “I’ve missed you too.”

  “I’m so glad you came home.”

  Stopping short of saying me too, Andrea inched back so she could see his face. Lord. He had aged. His hair was silver, but still thick and full. Time had made tracks around his eyes and the sun had weathered him even more. He was still plump, huggable and loveable. “Why aren’t you in the hospital? Are you okay?”

  “Hospital?” Brody repeated as he entered the room, but she ignored him.

  Her grandfather stepped away, turning his back to her as he walked to the sink. The splash of tap water running didn’t drown out his reply. “Outpatient.” The cupboard creaked as he reached in to retrieve a cup, before placing it beneath the faucet. “A yearly checkup. I’m as good as an old man can be.”

  “What?” she screeched, eyes widening.

  His hand shook as he tipped the glass to his mouth and swallowed.

  “Grandpa!” Her palms shot to her hips. She resisted the urge to tap a foot in frustration. “Why didn’t Byron just tell me it was a regular checkup? He made it sound like—”

  Like what? Like her grandfather needed her.

  “This is un-be-lieve-able.” A spark of anger flared. Did he have any idea what it took to rearrange her schedule? The effect it had on her to come back to Whispering Cove? Just as quickly as her resentment rose, it dissolved. “Why were you slurring your words?”

  A pinkish splotch appeared on each of his cheeks. His ears reddened. “Too much rum.”

  “Rum?” An exasperated huff was followed by a moan. “Ohhh…Grandpa.” Eyes clouding with disappointment, she continued. “Do you have any idea what I thought? What I’ve been through?” Not to mention the hell she was going through seeing Brody again.

  “I’m sorry.” How her grandfather managed big doe eyes, she’d never know. He looked pitiful, leaving no doubt in her mind that he was indeed ashamed. “Are you angry with me, lassie?”

  She glanced at Brody leaning casually against the doorjamb. The breadth of his broad shoulders seemed to consume the room. She didn’t remember him being quite so tall. He had to be at least six feet, a half foot taller than her. When he smiled that drop-dead smile that could melt her heart, she momentarily lost her concentration.

  “N-no.” Focusing back on her grandfather, she lowered her chin and let all that was Irish in her spill out. “But don’t you ever do this to me again.”

  The grin was back on her grandfather’s weathered face. “Then it’s time for this old man’s bed. Good night.” On the way through the kitchen he planted a gentle kiss on her cheek, then looked at Brody and winked.

  Andrea gasped.

  Had her conniving grandfather orchestrated her arrival?

  Nah…

  He couldn’t possibly. As she stood alone in the kitchen with the man she had loved since elementary school, the thought disappeared.

  Brody moved closer and she couldn’t help stepping back. “Take a walk with me, Andie.”

  Her nerves were frazzled. “It’s late, Brody.” Besides, she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him.

  “Too late?” he asked.

  Andrea didn’t miss the connotation in his question. But, yes. It was too late for them.

  Grasping her arms, he pulled her nearer. “You’re not scared to be alone with me, are you?” Slipping his hand into hers, he gifted her with another one of those heartbreaking smiles.

  Damn him.

  Andrea licked her lips. “No,” she replied when she should have said yes, because she was scared. Scared shitless.

  With a tug, he pulled her through the house, grabbing a checkered black and white afghan off the cream-colored couch, before opening the front door and leading her outside.

  As the salty air brushed her cheeks and the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore filled her senses, so did her suspicion. “What’s the blanket for?”

  “So you don’t get cold.” She almost laughed as he draped the afghan over her shoulders. But then he eased up behind her and whispered, “Remember the nights, Andie?” His voice was a little too low, a little too sensual.

  A tremor assailed her. How could she not remember all those nights lying naked on the beach in his arms? Or the many make-out sessions held on Dresden’s Bluff, a popular place for all the teenagers to hang out. But the one memory forever engraved in her mind was the first time Brody declared his love and took her virginity. Lying on a blanket laid across the bottom of his father’s boat, the ocean waves had rocked them into ecstasy.

  But that was then—and this was now.

  Somehow she found solace in the fact that they were much different people now. Over the years her heart had withered, hardened.

  It was too late for her—for them.

  Chapter Three

  The rush of the ocean slapping against the rocks echoed the beating of Brody’s heart. His hand tightened around Andie’s more delicate one before he drew her cool knuckles to his lips and kissed them, because he had to. A slight tug revealed her indifference, but not even she could rob him of this moment of happiness.

  The woman he had loved forever was home.

  Still caught in a state of semi-shock, he couldn’t believe she was in Whispering Cove. Nor could he deny the passion and love that had skyrocketed through him when he had discovered it was her he held on the back porch of her grandfather’s house. A flash of memories had turned him into one big knot of emotion. Even now her feminine scent, laced with a light, powdery perfume, made him dizzy with desire. With an overpowering need to get even closer, he tucked their joined hands to his chest, right above his heart. The adjustment drew the sides of their bodies so near that their hips and thighs brushed with each step. The black-and-white checkered afghan around her shoulders almost slipped, but she caught it, wrangling it back into place.

  The young girl he once knew had vanished. A sophisticated, sexy woman walked beside him, hand in hand.

  Like a school boy smitten for the first time, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Her hair was shorter now, a stylish shoulder-length cut, where she use to wear it down to her waist in a thick braid. Briefly he closed his eyes, remembering how he enjoyed releasing those silky strands, running his fingers through them, and how they slid seductively over his naked skin.

  Andie had been a fervent lover. Not afraid to explore her sexuality or, for that matter, his. Her kiss. Her touch. Her soft hands caressing his heated skin.

  A shiver raked his spine and he barely suppressed the moan that lingered in his diaphragm. But that was the effect she had on him. All he wanted to do was lay her on the sand and make love to her until the sun rose, but her standoffishness warned him to curtail his lust. Yet his willful mind was on a single track.

  Andie.

  Naked.

  In his arms.

>   A sharp, abrupt bark tore him from his wanderings, startling Andie as she bumped into him. Brody shot a glance into the direction of the Krueger’s beach house. Their fawn boxer barked again, jumping against the wooden fence that swayed beneath his weight.

  “Hush, Trojan,” Brody scolded.

  The yipping stopped, but Trojan’s stubby tail wagged so hard the boxer almost lost his footing. Brody would have to remember to bring a doggie treat when he patrolled the beach later on.

  A heavy sigh brought his attention back to Andie. What was she thinking, looking at the row of beach houses aligning the beach? Did she miss Whispering Cove? Him?

  Absentmindedly, he squeezed her hand again and she glanced up at him. The exchange was brief, before she looked away. Unashamed, he studied her, as much as he could beneath the moonlit night.

  More than the length of her hair had changed. Lord have mercy. His eyes had nearly jumped out of their sockets when he’d seen her in the kitchen light. Just the thought of those long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist made blood rush to his groin.

  Yet it was her full, tantalizing breasts peeking seductively from between her partially unbuttoned shirt that he longed to cradle and savor. His palms itched with anticipation. Bittersweet pressure built behind his zipper, causing his pants to rub and tease the sensitive head of his cock, making walking difficult.

  Not to mention, the silence was killing him. “So how have you been?”

  Staring straight ahead, she gazed across the dusky horizon. “Good.”

  Short. Sweet. To the point.

  Not exactly what he had expected from someone he had known all his life, or from a successful, articulate attorney. Yet again, it could be her training. Keep it brief. Say nothing that can be held against you in a court of law. Or maybe she was as nervous as he. Brody could stare down the barrel of a gun and get the job done, but with Andie he lost control. Even after all these years she remained the axis his world spun on.

  Her tongue slipped between lush lips and he almost died with the need to taste her. Instead, he reeled in his obstinate hunger. “California? You like living there?”