Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(52)

A thump sounded behind her. Meridith spun.

The tall silhouette, so close, sent her heart into her throat.

“Heeyyy . . . Meridith . . .”

She stepped back even as she recognized the thickness of his neck, the curls at his nape, against the distant porch light.

“Sean.”

“Thought that was you.” He took two steps closer, the movement kicking sand over her feet. He reeked of alcohol.

Meridith clutched at the collar of her robe. “I was just turning in. But you stay and enjoy the moonlight. Good night.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her path.

“Waas your hurry? Enjoy it with me.”

“No, thanks, I’m tired.” She stepped around him.

He grabbed her arm. Even through the thick robe, his fingers bit into her skin.

A riptide raged inside. Her mouth was as dry as the sand under her feet. “Let go.”

“Don’t be like that.” His grip tightened, digging into her flesh. “You know you want me.” His voice was suddenly dark, his words clearer.

What did she know about this guy? Nothing at all. She could scream out here, and no one would hear. Her voice would be swallowed by the wind, by the ocean. Her heart was bursting from her rib cage. “You’re drunk, Sean.”

“And you’re hot, but you know that, doncha? All pretty girls do.”

She pulled away, dislodging her body from the robe he gripped. She made it two steps before he grabbed her. He jerked her into his chest.

His breath smelled like whiskey. Meridith turned her head, pushed against him. But his chest was like a brick wall, his arms like shackles. She grunted in her effort.

“Oh yeah, I like the spunky ones.”

His laugh sent a shiver up her spine. He was too strong. “Let go, Sean.” She fought the lump of bile churning inside. Her lungs struggled to expand against the hard wall of his stomach.

She gave another push, stepping back, and he stepped forward, maintaining his hold. His feet tangled with hers, and Meridith felt herself falling backward, then the heavy weight of him crushing her.





Twenty-eight

Jake flipped over and punched down the feather pillow. Meridith’s guests had stumbled in, waking him, and now he couldn’t get back to sleep. Lying in the darkness, he listened to the house sounds. The heat kicking off. The ticking of the alarm clock. The squeak of the back stairs. Probably Meridith checking the front door.

All he could think of was that tomorrow was his last day at Summer Place. He’d leave, and then what? Did he have enough information to take to a judge, or should he try and convince Meridith that moving was wrong?

But who was he? Only a contractor, as far as Meridith was concerned. And if he told her the truth now, she wouldn’t care about his opinion. She’d only care that he’d tricked her into working here, living here. She’d be furious.

And he couldn’t blame her.

He flipped onto his back. Maybe he could talk to her again, convince her to let him stay and finish the list. What did he have to lose?

He lay quietly, listening, then realized he’d been waiting for Meridith’s return, for the squeak of the stairs to announce she was headed back to her room. He sat up in bed, wondering what was taking her so long to check the door. Outside his window, a light glowed from under the porch roof, a halo reaching into the yard.

Meridith always turned off the light before bed, but maybe she was sitting on the porch, unable to sleep, just like him.

He perched on the bed’s edge, tempted by the idea of joining her. The thought stirred something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Wyatt was right. He was an idiot. He was falling for his adversary. His engaged adversary. Talk about self-sabotage.

Jake ran a hand over his face. Stay or go? He drummed his fingers on his leg.

A noise sounded outside his room. The clicking of a door. He listened. A squeak on the front steps. Meridith wouldn’t come up that way, not with the locked door between the wings. One of the guests was stirring.

A new concern rippled through him. Jake stood and rooted for his T-shirt before remembering he’d hung it on the bed’s spindle. He shrugged into it, opened his door, then peered into the hall. Two doors closed, one cracked open.

It was enough. Jake crept down the front stairs, his eyes scanning the darkened living room. When he reached the front door, he found it locked.

Where was she? A dim light glowed in the kitchen, but that was only the stove light. He padded through the living room and dining room, into the kitchen. The refrigerator hummed, breaking the silence. Light glowed from the porch through the kitchen window. A quick scan revealed nothing but empty chairs.

Had Meridith turned on the porch light and forgotten about it? Had she come up the back stairs without his hearing? She must have.

He breathed a wry laugh. Meridith was upstairs drifting off to sleep under a warm quilt while he traipsed barefoot through the house in search of her.

He flipped off the porch light and turned toward the living room. He could use a little sleep himself, if he could just stop thinking about—

A movement on the beach slowed his steps. He approached the window and peered out. The stove light glared on the windowpane, blocking his view. He reached for the doorknob and found it unlocked. He knew that wasn’t an oversight. Meridith was on the beach.

But what of the guest? Jake knew he’d left his room. His original fear returned. He opened the door and traversed the porch in three steps.