Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt Page 5

  and length of time, I assure you.”

  Mica suddenly felt lighthearted and free, as though the

  restrictions placed on her by family and society all her life

  were no longer there. The invisible bonds, which had dictated

  how she spoke, dressed and behaved, suddenly didn’t matter

  at all.

  Logan sat there, staring at her as though he wanted to devour

  her. There was that word again. Mica’s stomach flip-flopped.

  She swallowed to ease her throat’s dryness, then spoke.

  “Mrs. Harris said the door wouldn’t—”

  “And who is Mrs. Harris?”

  “The housekeeper at Sea Crest, of course.”

  “So, you live at Sea Crest. You’re not visiting Mattie?”

  “Who’s Mattie?”

  He mimicked her. “The housekeeper at Indigo Bay, of

  course.” He laughed with her, his rich chuckle reaching across

  the short distance to caress Mica’s senses. “I am certainly glad

  we have established the servant’s hierarchy.”

  “But no one knows you’re here. It was only by accident

  that I followed the voices last night.”

  “Ah, last night. You must have heard me arguing with my

  stepbrother, Neil. If word of my arrival had to be slow, I wish

  it had not reached him quite yet. I would have liked to reestablish

  my father’s accounts and reacquaint myself with the

  workers, firmly establishing myself in control of Indigo Bay

  before I had to deal with him.”

  That explained a lot, Mica thought. While she couldn’t

  recall her aunt ever referring to any part of Sea Crest as Indigo

  Bay, she supposed if Logan leased this part as his private

  residence, he could call it what he wanted. That also meant

  there would be no need for the other employees of the inn to be

  concerned about it. Apparently Mrs. Harris, who was fairly

  new herself, didn’t know about Logan because he had only

  recently arrived. But it was odd that her aunt wouldn’t have

  told her about the man.

  Logan reached over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her

  ear. The intimate gesture was so natural, Mica tilted her head

  towards his fingers without conscious thought. She forgot for

  a moment how strange their circumstances were. She felt

  comfortable and secure here. Peace stole over her as effectively

  as Logan’s husky voice soothed her.

  “I do not want to discuss my hot-tempered stepbrother, or

  either of our gossipy housekeepers. I want to know about you—

  what do you do when you’re not spying on me at night or

  wearing outlandish clothes?”

  Mica couldn’t take offense at his mention of her

  trespassing, because she had come into his quarters

  unannounced. “At the moment, I’m on vacation. My aunt, well

  actually, my great-great aunt, bequeathed Sea Crest to me when

  she died. While I don’t know the first thing about managing it,

  I decided to spend some time here.”

  “I’m not familiar with Sea Crest, nor your aunt...?”

  “Theodora Josephine Ashley.” Mica had to smile when she

  said the name, knowing her aunt wouldn’t like to be introduced,

  even in a conversation, as Aunt Theo. “Sea Crest has been in

  the family since before the Civil War.”

  “Civil War? I am definitely familiar with that term,

  especially with a stepbrother such as Neil,” Logan snorted.

  Mica thought his comment odd, but his fingers, which had

  lazily circled her ear, now slid to the back of her neck. It took

  little effort on his part to pull her towards him. During the

  entire time he had talked, she had wondered why he didn’t put

  those lips to better use!

  His breath, warm and tinged with the scent of mint, caressed

  her cheek as his lips touched her skin. “I don’t want to discuss

  families or plantations or housekeeping staff anymore. I want

  to know about you.”

  “But I was telling you about me.”

  “There are other ways of learning about a person besides

  talking.” He pulled her closer. And Mica didn’t resist. His voice

  had spun a silken web about her, and she found herself willingly

  trapped in his embrace. His lips touched her brow, and she

  sighed, realizing she had been holding her breath in anticipation

  of his kiss. But even as he kissed along her eyebrows, down

  the bridge of her nose and across her jaw, she craved more.

  Logan felt her moan vibrate through his body. Her heat

  combined with his own to fan the flames of the fire she had

  started last night. He had been delighted when she appeared,

  as though by magic, at the door to the conservatory, for he had

  spent the entire day trying to find her. Mattie had no visiting

  relatives, and though he had only been back at Indigo Bay for

  two weeks, he thought he knew most of the people in the

  immediate area.

  For now, it didn’t matter where she had come from. She

  was here in his arms. He couldn’t explain the attraction he had

  felt last night, nor the intense sense of loss when he had returned

  to the study to find she had disappeared. Her seductive green

  eyes held secrets he longed to discover, and in her kisses he

  detected an untapped wealth of passion.

  Michaela Marie consisted of more than physical desire, he

  knew, but for now, he would content himself with the

  exploration of her lush curves and smooth, silky skin. He quit

  teasing her with butterfly kisses and finally captured her mouth

  with his. The intensity of her response caught him unaware

  and totally unprepared for the heat racing like wildfire through

  his blood.

  As if he had waited a lifetime for her to come to him,

  unspent passion now simmered just below the surface. His hand

  moved inside her shirt to cup her breast, the weight and fullness

  of it just right in his hand. His thumb flicked across her nipple,

  which stood rigid against the cotton of her chemise. He groaned

  as his lips left hers, not wanting their kiss to end, but knowing

  he had to taste her.

  He heard her faint whimpers of desire as his lips wove an

  erotic path down her neck to the curve of material covering the

  treasure he sought. His hand pushed the material up over her

  flat stomach. Her skin was hot to the touch, on fire as surely as

  his own. He groaned as he cupped her breast, his hand large

  and brown against her delicate beauty.

  “God, you’re beautiful. I’ve waited my whole life for you

  to come along.” He kissed her breast before he flicked his

  tongue to tease her nipple erect.

  Awash with emotions foreign to her systematic, orderly

  existence, Mica couldn’t reply. Never in her wildest imaginings

  would she have thought kissing could be so erotic. Logan kissed

  her as though he had spent a lifetime perfecting the art, and

  Mica found herself more than willing to let him practice on

  her. That is, until he once again asked her to stay.

  “Stay here tonight, with me,” he whispered against her

  throat.

  She pushed against his chest, struggling to pull her tank


  top back into place. While he allowed her to regain her modesty,

  he didn’t move far from her side.

  “No, I can’t stay here. It’s just not possible.”

  “But why not? You said you own Sea Crest, so I assume

  you’ve reached your majority. Is there someone waiting to take

  you home? I’ll have Simon...”

  “No!” Since he had just recently moved to the area, he

  must not realize how close she lived, and she wasn’t going to

  tell him. The less he knew about her the better. If she didn’t

  want to pursue a relationship, she would prefer he not know

  how to find her. She cleared her throat. “May I have a glass of

  water, please?”

  The scowl that had brought his dark brows together

  instantly cleared. His eyes twinkled, and straight white teeth

  flashed in a grin. He stood and walked to a wall table that

  Mica had failed to notice earlier. “Would you prefer brandy or

  sherry?”

  “No, water, please.” She stood and moved to the end of the

  couch, ready to make a run for it when he left the room to fetch

  the water.

  “Well, you are indeed fortunate. Just today, I had Simon

  put water decanters in all the rooms.” He handed her a crystal

  glass, the smile never leaving his face. He sat lightly on the

  arm of the couch, one leg braced on the floor, the other bent

  with his foot on the cushion. Mica idly thought he should have

  more respect for the antique settee.

  “Simon?” She clutched the glass, because her hand shook

  and her voice cracked. She hated the squeak in her voice, and

  the fact she had reverted back to one-word sentences. No man

  had ever put her on the defensive so quickly.

  “Are we back to that, again? Simon is my butler, who is

  married to Mattie, my housekeeper, remember? Tomorrow

  morning, I will introduce you to the entire staff, from the

  gardener and stable boy on up.” He rose and moved towards

  her. “But tonight, you are mine alone. I do not wish to share

  you with anyone.”

  He reached to take her glass, and Mica panicked. She could

  think of only one thing to do—an old trick, but usually effective.

  “Damn!” Logan jumped back as she knocked his glass of

  brandy and it spilled onto his shirtfront.

  “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. Let me get a towel.” She stepped

  towards the door, but he grabbed her wrist. His eyes twinkled

  with amusement, as though he guessed her game.

  “It won’t hurt a thing. Leave it.” He pulled her closer, his

  words soft and not the least angry over her clumsiness.

  Mica’s gaze fell to his chest, where golden droplets of

  brandy glistened among the dark hair. She pinched her lips

  tightly together to repress the sudden desire to lick the drops

  away with her tongue.

  Logan’s warm hand gently cupped her chin and tilted her

  face until she met his gaze. His brandy-tinged kiss, this time

  seductive and leisurely, still held a promise of passion.

  She pulled away from him with reluctance. “I’ll get a towel

  so it doesn’t stain.” She stepped back so they no longer touched,

  but she still felt as though they did. A reproachful look entered

  his eyes, and she added a promise she didn’t know if she could

  keep. “I’ll be back.”

  This time when she closed the door behind her, she pulled

  the key from the lock. She couldn’t have said whether it was to

  keep Logan from following her, or to keep anyone at the inn

  from finding out about him. Her hand trembled as it closed

  around the cold metal. Her fist continued to shake when she

  pushed it against her pounding heart.

  Three

  Several things about T. Logan Rutledge didn’t add up, and

  Mica swore she would get to the bottom of the mystery. At

  least that’s what she told herself as she jogged down the deserted

  beach early that morning.

  Last night as he kissed her and touched her, she could have

  cared less about any mystery. She couldn’t seem to think straight

  when in the same vicinity as he. She recalled the soft glow of

  candlelight on the black sheen of his hair, and the heat of his

  body, which rivaled the moist warmth of the night air coming

  through the open balcony doors.

  Candlelight? No air conditioning? And what about all those

  antiques?

  She tried to rationalize the unusual circumstances.

  Candlelight was romantic, though he couldn’t have known she

  would come to see him again. The night was cool enough to

  forego air conditioning, and many houses in the area were full

  of antiques. Sea Crest had its share of them, though some were

  reproductions. She suspected that some of Logan’s could be,

  too. Much of the original furniture had been sold off sometime

  in the past to pay for upkeep. She knew that much from stories

  her aunt had told.

  Mica came to a stop at the back gate, bending slowly at

  the waist several times as she brought her breathing back to

  normal. As she headed back to her apartment, she admitted

  that she could play the devil’s advocate all day and still have

  no answers. She draped a towel around her neck and grabbed a

  mug of coffee from her small kitchen before she skirted the

  breakfast room and slipped unnoticed out the inn’s front door.

  She walked several yards past the circle drive to where the

  lane just began its curve. She turned around to face the house.

  Sipping her coffee, she squinted against the morning sun that

  had risen above the roof. She stepped several yards to the left,

  then slowly walked back to the right, never taking her gaze off

  the building.

  At one time, she had thought about being a mechanical

  engineer. Now she realized why her grades in high school

  drafting had indicated she find another career. She couldn’t for

  the life of her picture the layout of the Sea Crest’s upstairs

  from looking at the outside structure. The inn appeared much

  larger from the outside than when she had toured it. However,

  she had no way of knowing the size of individual guest rooms.

  That could explain the difference in size.

  “There you are, Ms. Chadwick.” Mrs. Harris said,

  interrupting Mica’s thoughts. “I was just telling the Barkers

  you may have already left for the day.”

  “I will be gone soon. Are they the Barkers?” Mica added

  in a whisper, nodding toward the odd-looking couple who

  followed some distance behind her manager.

  Mrs. Harris glanced over her shoulder before whispering

  back, “They’re our newest guests, and they have a rather

  strange request. I told them they would have to speak with

  you.”

  “You’re the manager and would normally handle this if I

  weren’t here, wouldn’t you?” Mica was reluctant to get involved

  with any of the inn’s lodgers. Besides, there were things she

  wanted to do—the most important to investigate the mysterious

  Mr. Rutledge. “Speaking of guests, what can you tell me

  about—”?

  “H
ello, hello, I’m Harold Barker, and this is my wife,

  Nadine.” The short, rotund man grabbed Mica’s hand and

  vigorously pumped it up and down while waving the other in

  the general direction of his wife. Mica had no time to introduce

  herself before the woman stepped forward.

  “Harold, please dear,” she said, patting her husband on

  the arm. Mica couldn’t see that the man had done anything

  wrong, so she supposed the wife just liked to be in charge.

  When Mrs. Barker turned her attention to Mrs. Harris and

  Mica, Mica picked up on the condescension in her voice. “I

  don’t see why it’s necessary to tell everyone in creation what

  we are about. However, since your manager felt we should

  speak directly with you, well, here we are. Now, do you have a

  problem with that?”

  Mica switched her gaze from the wife to the husband and

  back. Nadine Barker was as tall and thin as her husband was

  short and fat, and her dyed red hair was in sharp contrast with

  his bald pate. While Mr. Barker shifted from foot to foot and

  worried his shirt collar with a pudgy finger, his wife glared

  down her nose at Mica with arrogant self-assurance.

  Mrs. Harris shrugged her shoulders when Mica glanced

  her way, as though to say she had no idea what the woman was

  talking about. Mica decided to play the diplomat and try to get

  rid of the couple as quickly as possible.

  “Welcome to Sea Crest, Mr. and Mrs. Barker. I hope you

  enjoy your stay.” That was innocent enough.

  “See, Harold, I told you there wouldn’t be a problem, but

  no, you had to try to tell all.” The woman blustered openly to

  her mate, whose suddenly flushed face matched the dark red

  of his shirt.

  “But, dear, you didn’t tell her anything yet.” Obviously

  henpecked, Mr. Barker ducked his head after he spoke, as

  though a blow would follow his words.

  “Of course I did, and she said we were welcome.” The

  woman turned on a sandal-clad heel towards the inn.

  Mica tried to be polite as she said, “Excuse me. I did

  welcome you to Sea Crest, but can I ask about the nature—”

  “Of course, I suppose you must know something of our

  business,” Mrs. Barker interrupted. “I assure you it’s legal,

  and when we find the treasure, it will legally be ours, even if it