Night Music. Bj James
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of mimosas. Best of all, Tessa’s flowers sat in the center of the table. “This looks like a celebration.”
“Maybe.” Drawing out a chair, he waited, silently, until she had no choice but to take the offered seat.
Wondering what the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but with the saddest eyes, would find to celebrate, Kate’s gaze followed as he returned to stand across from her. Sipping from a glass he’d filled for her, discovering it was truly a mimosa, she watched him over the glittering rim before setting the glass aside.
Forgetting that as recently as yesterday she wouldn’t have noticed any man, attractive or not, she settled back. And with a long, slow look, Kate Gallagher committed to memory all that made Devlin O’Hara an intriguing man.
Ranging over the little not masked by table and flowers, her gaze touched first on his hair. Darker than she believed possible, longer than she liked as a rule. But on Devlin, the shaggy look of disregard was seductive, especially when it capped craggy features that spoke of a life of adventure. Eyes like blue topaz with barely masked anguish lurking in their depths, and a mouth that could be grim and beautiful at once, completed an aura of compelling magnetism and extraordinary sensuality.
Compelling, extraordinary, and unstudied. It hadn’t taken long to understand that nothing about Devlin was calculated. How he looked, how he talked, the frisson of sexual tension he exuded, were natural. Part and parcel of a man who would be irresistible…if she’d met him in another time, another place. If both hadn’t brought the inescapable baggage of terminal grief along with them.
Watching as he spooned a colorful array of fruits into brandy snifters, then topped each with a bit of cream, she wondered when and where he’d learned to be so creative in the kitchen.
Had he been married? Was he still?
Of course not. Kate was certain there was no woman in Devlin O’Hara’s life. But had there been? Had he lost someone beloved? Did that explain the grief she saw in him? And, perchance, his palms?
He made no effort to hide the scars, but something in his demeanor warned discussion was off limits. As someone with her own secret hurts, Kate would never pry. When, or if, he wanted her to know, he would tell her. She would not question, until then.
Or never. He’d said he would stay for a while. For all she knew, “for a while” meant only this day.
“Something wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like mimosas?
“I beg your pardon?” Kate was so engrossed in her thoughts, she only half heard him.
“You were frowning. I asked if there’s something wrong.”
Kate sat a little straighter, improvising. “Only that I’m sitting like a dolt, when I should help.”
“No help needed.” His piercing gaze traced the lines of her face. “You’re too lovely to be a dolt. So, sit in the sun. Rest while I finish, then we’ll share our first meal.”
“I am rested.” With the flush of his compliment on her cheeks, she knew it was true. “More rested than in a long time.”
“No dreams last night? Or only good ones?”
The question surprised her, making her wonder how he could know she dreamed, and in those dreams faced her demons night after night. But as quickly, she knew he asked because it was the same for him. Devlin had his own battle in the dark. But the lasting surprise was her recollection that it was Devlin who strolled through her dreams, smiling his half smile and teasing, then disappearing into a glittering moonlit sea.
“I dreamed,” she admitted. “But only good ones.”
Circling the table he set her salad in place. As he leaned near her, his fingers curled briefly over hers. “Any night without the troubles that stalk us is a good night, isn’t it, Kate?”
Looking at him, golden gaze meeting blue, with his clean scent a part of every breath, the beat of her heart thundered in her veins. He was so close, she saw the creases radiating from his eyes. Laugh lines. The mark of a man who once had enjoyed life. A man who understood her, for the life he lived now was the same.
Though he was a stranger who had appeared on her doorstep, she wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him. But she hadn’t the right. “A night without troubles is a gift I don’t deserve.”
“I doubt that,” Devlin countered gently, then said no more, for it wasn’t time. They were moving too fast. One wrong step and doors that opened a sliver would close to him forever. “Enough serious stuff. Agreed, Lady Golden Eyes?”
The silly name drew a reluctant smile. “Agreed.”
“Then, one last touch and breakfast is served.” Drawing a flower from Tessa’s bouquet, he snapped the stem and tucked the creamy blossom in her hair. “A pretty flower for a pretty lady.”
His hand lingered at her cheek in a caressing touch. So much in his life was harsh and unforgiving, he only wanted to feel a bit of softness. Just a bit.
“Kate.”
“Devlin?”
She’d never said his name like that. Never called him simply Devlin. He wanted to hear it again and again in that low, calm voice while the sun and the sea spun their magic around her.
“When I came, I didn’t intend to stay. I promised myself one night…” He faltered over the half-truth. Devlin who never lied, who never feared anything, was afraid he would hurt her. Afraid his presence would ruin the island for her and destroy the little contentment she’d found.
“The island is a pretty, peaceful place. I’ve seen a lot of the world, yet I didn’t expect what I found here. Even so, I won’t intrude, I won’t stay, Kate. If you don’t want me here.”
She waited through his little speech, hearing words of praise she’d said when she first came. She heard him voice the fears she’d felt when Jericho warned of a stranger in her paradise.
She knew Devlin would go, if she asked. Yesterday, it would have been what she wanted. Now she heard herself saying, “Summer Island is big enough for two. Our paths needn’t cross.”
Devlin pretended nonchalance. “I suppose not.”
“But today they have, thanks to neighborly kindness.”
“This was presumptuous. Rummaging through your supplies and food. Dragging out table linens. Robbing a superb wine cellar.”
“Letting good food go to waste,” Kate added to his list. “With generously shared coffee growing cold. Sit down, Devlin. What you’ve done is not an intrusion. Yes, I’ve had the island to myself, but it isn’t mine, you know.”
“Two isn’t a crowd?”
“Let’s take it one day at a time, and see how it goes.”
“Then I’ll stay, Kate. One day at a time.”
Devlin sat across from her. Listening as she told him of the island creatures and their habits, he discovered she hadn’t spent her reclusive life moldering. She was observant, well read. Well versed, even expert, in the history of the area.
“Once Summer Island was called after Stede Bonnet?” he prompted, to hear her speak, to listen to softly elegant tones.
“This was Bonnet’s hunting ground. Anchoring on the backside of the island, the gentleman pirate waited for his prey. Hopefully, he was a better gentleman than a pirate. After he was hanged in Charleston, the name was forgotten. Now some call it Summer Island. To others, though there are dozens of islands scattered along this coastline, it’s simply the island.” Grimacing, she said, “That’s enough instruction for one day.”
“You make it interesting.”
“And you’re a gentleman and a liar.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I treasure the compliment.”