Blaze of Winter: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance (10 page)

Branford Weld, president of the Star Harbor Historical Society, had done him a solid favor, allowing him to use the records room in the old building way past regular hours. In fact, he was pretty sure the Historical Society wasn’t even open on Thursdays during the winter. He made a mental note to buy Bran a drink or two at the Nail sometime soon. In fact, he sure could use one himself. Closing his worn leather-bound notebook, he organized the stacks of books and papers he was using into two large piles on the wooden desk. As he picked up one of the books, it fell open onto the hardwood floor.

“Damn,” he said. The book was old and its spine was crumbling. If he’d damaged it, there would be hell to pay. Bran guarded these materials like they were his own children. Gingerly, Theo picked up the book and placed it back on the desk. He flipped through it carefully, checking for damage. Suddenly, something caught his eye.

There was an insert in the book—a drawing of an old map. He could tell that it depicted the coastline in and around Star Harbor. The town’s uniquely shaped harbor was unmistakable—its
half-star shape was what had originally given the town its name. Theo peered at the map. It seemed to show the location of a shipwreck. Could it possibly be …

His breath caught in his lungs as he scanned the old-style text around the map. Yes! It was a map of the wreck of the
Siren Lorelei
. What a stroke of luck! He was sure he’d have found the map eventually, but this would give him a jump start. Typically, when he was researching a book, he liked to visit any actual sites he was using as background. Coupled with his fictional ideas, real historical details were what made his books special. He smiled. He did love getting things right.

He flipped his notebook back open and sketched out a rough copy of the map, including the outline of the harbor and the place where the wreck was supposed to have occurred. According to the text, the wreckage had been spread out over four miles, so he drew that in, too. Then he put a small piece of paper in the old book as a bookmark, carefully shut it, and placed it on top of one of his piles.

He tucked his notebook and laptop into his shoulder bag, shrugged on his coat, and walked through the main room. A display of old nautical instruments sat atop a long table, and peeling, yellowed maps of Cape Cod lined the walls. Bran had given him the key to the front door, so he used that to lock up behind him.

It was snowing again, but it was a short walk down to the pier where the Rusty Nail was located. As he walked, his feet crunched in the crisp, freshly fallen snow. In the harbor, whitecaps topped the waves, and sturdy winter boats bobbed in the water. Most of the pleasure boats were dry docked for the winter, but the fishing boats and houseboats—including Val’s—were still attached to their moorings.

Theo reached the Nail’s unassuming front door within ten minutes. Blending in seamlessly with its surroundings, the tavern looked like any other worn harbor-front building. Built of shellacked wood that had taken a pounding over the years from wind and saltwater, the Nail could be identified only by a small placard over the door frame. It had been around forever,
and like any local, Theo knew that Andy had carefully maintained its uninviting exterior to exclude tourists. Happily, it was much less of an issue during the wintertime.

Pushing the door open, Theo was blasted by a warm gust of air. Unlike its shabby façade, the Nail’s interior was well maintained. The front room was dimly lit, but not dark, and the place was clean. Some fishermen sat at the long, polished oak bar, conversing with Andy Neiman. Small groups gathered at lacquered wooden tables, nursing tall steins of beer. He spotted Val and Cole at one of the corner tables, sitting with Jimmy Bishop. Theo gave them a wave, then moved to the bar to get a drink.

“Hey, Andy. How are things?”

“Just fine, Theo. Had a good rehearsal with my chamber music group tonight. Expecting the rest of the players any minute now. You?”

“A productive day,” he said with satisfaction. “Tough, but productive.”

“Sounds like you need a drink,” Andy said wryly.

“What do you have on tap?”

“I got a Shipyard winter ale from Maine you might like.”

Theo inclined his head. “Sure.”

“Put it on your tab?” the older man asked, drawing the brew.

“Yeah, thanks, Andy.” He took the ice-cold glass and headed to join Jimmy and his brothers. “What’s up?” he asked, sinking down into one of the rounded-back spindle chairs at their table.

“Not much,” Jimmy said. “Did some repairs on the barn today. Wasn’t easy in the cold, but I was afraid the structure wouldn’t hold the weight if more snow fell. I’m glad I did it now that it’s snowing again. And Emma’s sister stopped by for dinner. Nice girl.”

At the mention of Avery, Theo merely blinked, making sure his reaction was tempered. No need to give the other men any fodder. “What about you, Cole?”

“Had to stop Mrs. Pruitt for driving with her truck lights out again,” he said, shrugging. “This is the third time I’ve had to warn her that she has to have her front lights on when it’s snowing. She just doesn’t get that they don’t go on automatically in the daytime.”

Val gave him a half-smile. “Sure beats carjacking crimes, eh?”

“Saw enough of those in Boston.” Cole shook his head, as if to erase the bad memories. “You have a good day?” he asked Theo.

“Yes. I got a lot done. Bran really helped me out. Gave me my own key to the Historical Society so I could brush up on the research for my next book.”

Cole nodded with satisfaction. “Good. Glad being in town is working out for you.”

Theo couldn’t help but smile. His brother might be a pain sometimes, but his heart was—and always had been—in the right place. Even when they’d been troublemaking teens, Cole had always been the first one to jump into the fray if things went wrong.

“It is. Have to admit, my inspiration came from an unlikely source.”

Val leaned forward. “Really? Who?”

Before Theo could answer, the door to the tavern swung open. And there she was, her gorgeous red hair shining like a beacon. She was wearing that ridiculous puffer coat that made her look twice her normal size, and she was carrying a long case. He picked up his drink and sipped. Val had asked him something about inspiration, but he wasn’t listening. He was fixated on one thing only—Avery Newbridge.

Laughing at something Karen Wright had said, Avery obviously didn’t notice him sitting in the corner. If she saw him, she’d have that nervous look she always got when he was around. He took the opportunity to study her. She’d taken off her jacket and he drank in her slim figure, clad in dark, tight jeans and a green v-neck sweater. It set off the color of her hair, which was up in another tight twist. He longed to send it tumbling down her neck. Placing her case on an empty chair, she slid into one of the booths on the side wall, right next to the mayor.

A flash of jealousy coursed through him when she turned to Royce and smiled, more color suffusing her already pink cheeks. He’d willingly give up the rights to his next book if she’d grace him with the same ease. Good thing Royce was happily married.

“You going over there?” Cole asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Theo took a long, slow drink, realizing that Cole was much more intuitive than he let on. “Soon.”

He glanced over at his brother, expecting some sort of juvenile comment. But instead of making a smart-aleck remark, Cole’s eyes flickered before he set his lips into a smile and took a drink of his own draft. Then he turned to Jimmy and struck up a conversation about ice-fishing season. Whatever Cole was thinking, he was keeping it to himself.

One moment Avery was enjoying the simple pleasure of how the cold beer both chilled her throat and warmed her stomach, and the next, she had the tingling sensation of being watched. Scanning the room to figure out who the culprit was, she did a double-take when her gaze skimmed over the table in the corner.

He
was there, watching her from the darkened corner. His black hair blended into the dark wood-paneled walls, but his eyes? Those glowed green, making him appear like a predatory cat. Then she caught a flash of white as he gave her a devilish smile.

As calmly as she could, she swallowed a few sips of beer and then casually began to drop hints that she was leaving. Moments later she slid out of the booth and made her final excuses.

“Thank you all for a wonderful evening, but it’s getting late and I want to check in on Kate before she falls asleep.”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right on the walk home?” Karen asked. “You slipped and slid the whole way here.”

Avery picked up her violin case. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a few blocks down Harbor and I’ll hold on to the lampposts.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Royce said, starting to get out of the booth.

“That won’t be necessary,” a deep voice sounded from behind her. “I’ve got that covered.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Theo. The back of her neck prickled with awareness and she began to flush. She tried to tell herself that it was because she was standing in a warm tavern dressed in her winter gear, and not the closeness of his body to hers, but she knew better.

“Like I told everyone before, I’ll be fine.”

“And now I’ll make sure of it.” Gripping her elbow, Theo steered her to the door. “Good night, everyone,” he said over his shoulder.

Before Avery had a chance to protest, they were standing on the pier outside the Rusty Nail, snow flurries whirling around them as the wind blew in from the south.

“What was that?” she said indignantly, jerking her elbow away from him. “I do
not
appreciate being manhandled.”

He gave her an infuriating grin. “Oh, you’ll know when you’re being manhandled, and that definitely wasn’t it.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” When she dug in her heels, he laughed. “Avery, you know as well as I do that the minute you take one step you’re going to wind up on your ass. The fresh, powdery stuff is always slippery.”

She gave him a frown. “I can do it myself.”

Far from seeming angry, he instead looked bemused. “Be my guest.” He stepped back and held out his hand to indicate she should walk. Flashing him an angry glare, she took one step, and true to form, her legs slipped right out from under her. She would indeed have fallen on her ass, but he caught her under her arms right before she hit the pier. Luckily, she’d managed to hold on to her violin case—cold, jarring bumps would not be good for her instrument.

“You are a stubborn one.” His eyes crinkled with mirth. “Hang on.” Without warning, he tightened his grip on her arms, pulled her upright, and before she could even blink, he swept her off her feet so that she was cradled against his chest, one long arm around her back and another tucked under her knees.

“W-what are you doing?” she shrieked, barely keeping hold of her case as it dangled from her hand.

He chuckled. “Manhandling you, of course.”

“Put me down right now,” she demanded.

“Nope,” he said calmly, just as if they were having a normal conversation. “I’m carrying you home.” Striding briskly down the pier, his booted feet made a dull, hollow sound on the snowy wood. “Don’t know how you lasted so long in Boston during the winter. Guess they salt the sidewalks.”

“Let go of me!”

He kept walking. “Not a chance, Avie. Your backside is just too lovely to be bruised, and this whole town’ll be after me if I let anything happen to you.”

Avery let out a huff. “This is extremely undignified. You’re acting like a … a caveman.” They were on Harbor Street now. Avery blushed, feeling the heat warm her cheeks, as she realized how she must look. There wasn’t anyone out on the streets tonight, but she fervently prayed that no one decided to look out their window.

“A caveman,” he mused. “I like that. I think I’ve been denying my true nature for way too long. What can I say, Avery? You bring out the best in me.”

“You mean the worst,” she sniffed, resolved to get some cleats or boots with traction—maybe a pair of those huge, clunky ones she’d seen in the sporting goods store.

“No, I mean the best,” he said, turning up Main. Within a minute, he was at Kate’s house. “And I think you’re denying yourself, too.” He loosened his grip on her legs and lowered her, the side of her body slowly dragging against his chest until her feet were once again on the ground.

Fury and desire rose together, but she fought them, ducking out of his arms and taking a step toward the door. Not even bothering with another glare—what good would it do, anyway?—she took off her gloves, reached into her pocket, and pulled out her key. Jabbing it into the lock, she clicked the door open and pushed inside. Once she was in the relative safety of the house, she put down her case and turned back to him. He stood outside the door in the cold, tiny snowflakes landing in his dark hair and on his broad shoulders. Sensuality rolled off him in waves. Just looking at him was overwhelming.

“Why did you say that I was denying myself?” she asked.

He stepped forward until he was only a foot away, filling the door frame with his bulk. Avery forced herself to look up at him and when their eyes met, his gaze deepened and a slow, sexy smile formed on his face. “You’re an emotional, passionate woman. It’s there, simmering just beneath the surface. I can see it. You can feel it. Why don’t you embrace it?”