Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(29)

Adam cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to the tawny-haired, brown-eyed man in front of me. “Maddy, this is Captain Walker Adair.” Our pilot extended his hand, and Adam continued, “Walker, Ms. Madeleine Fitch.”

We shook hands, his grasp firm yet gentle. There was a kindness in his demeanor, and I found myself instantly liking Captain Adair. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Fitch,” he said.

“Nice to meet you too,” I replied. “And please, just call me Maddy.”

Walker nodded and excused himself to the cockpit. Within moments the sounds of soft jazz filled the cabin. Adam led me to the two connected seats—the ones that looked like a loveseat—and I sat down on the side closest to the window, sinking into the soft, buttery leather.

Adam sat down in the seat next to me and proceeded to swiftly uncork the bottle on the table. “Champagne?” he offered, a crystal flute poised in one hand.

I nodded, and he poured us each a glass as the plane began to taxi down the runway. Our knees accidentally touched when Adam handed me my flute, and a rush of electricity pulsed through my body. “Shall we toast?” he asked, raising his glass.

“Sure.” I raised my glass to his.

Adam hesitated and then said, “To a wonderful start to what I hope will be a memorable evening. Cheers.”



“Cheers,” I said, tapping my glass to his as the plane lifted into the air.

Adam and I tipped our glasses back simultaneously, but while I took a dainty sip, Adam emptied his flute. He then settled back into his seat, loosened his tie, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Angling to get a better view of him, I shifted in my seat, all the while sipping my champagne. But far more delightful than the sweet, bubbly liquid in the glass, I drank in the glory of Adam Ward at rest. Even dressed in his fine attire, his raven-black hair was still a sexy mess. I longed to run my fingers through it, much like I’d seen him do the night I’d been caught on his property. I bit down on my lip and sighed when my eyes fell upon his full lips, glistening with a touch of wetness from the champagne. Replaying the teasing, feather-soft kisses from our time at the lighthouse sent more tingles through my body than any amount of alcohol ever could. Even so I tipped my head back and drank the last bit of bubbly from my glass.

Leaning forward, I placed my glass on the table. When I sat back and glanced next to me, I was surprised to find a seemingly amused Adam, eyes open and a knowing smirk on his face. A blush rose to my cheeks because, eyes closed or not, he was clearly aware that I’d been checking him out.

“How was it, Maddy?” Adam’s voice was even and betrayed nothing, but his eyes danced wickedly.

“How was what?” I asked innocently.

“The champagne, of course.” Adam leaned his head back against the rest and waited, watching, for my response.

Two could play at this game, so I licked my lips and said, “Mmm, it was amazing. The aroma…the full bouquet…I’d have to say it may have been the most suc-culent thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It would seem our dear Mr. Ward was quite enjoying this little exchange.

Reaching into the bowl of fresh fruit on the table, he purred, “Personally I prefer a sweeter juiciness against my tongue.”



I was rendered momentarily speechless by Adam’s suggestive words, and surely that had been his intention. Holding up a plump, ripe strawberry, he added smugly, “I’m talking about the strawberry, Maddy. Would you care to try one?”

I swallowed hard, nodding. Good God, he was killing me. I reached for the strawberry, but Adam pulled it away, short of my grasp, at the very last second.

With a dark smile, he crooned, “Uh-uh-uh. It will be much better for you like this.”

Adam poured champagne into his empty flute. He then lightly dipped the strawberry into the fizzing liquid, tapping the side of the fruit to the rim of the glass before lifting it to my lips. “Open your mouth,” he demanded, in such a way that I readily parted my lips.

Adam brushed the strawberry across my bottom lip, held it still for a beat, and then used the champagne-moistened fruit to lightly trace the outline of my lips, his darkened eyes meeting mine. “Lick the tip,” he said, his voice low and silky.

Eager to comply, I tentatively touched the end of the strawberry with the tip of my tongue. Champagne sweetness hit my taste buds. What we were doing felt sinful and thrilling. Emboldened by the decadence of it all, I artfully swirling my tongue around the tip of the strawberry and met Adam’s gaze.

He pulled the strawberry away. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. I readily acquiesced and felt him shifting in his seat—the heat of his body closing in on mine. A swirl of liquid, a light tapping against the crystal rim of the glass. “Do you want it, Madeleine?” Adam asked, every word laced with the suggestion of so much more.

I nodded demurely, and Adam purred, “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it, Adam. Please.” And, holy hell, I’d never wanted it so badly in my life. I didn’t care about the damn strawberry itself, but every fiber of my body was on fire, and I wanted Adam to be the one to give it to me. “Please,” I whispered again.

Suddenly the champagne-moistened fruit was at my lips—tracing, teasing, taunting. I let out a stifled moan, and Adam stilled the movement of the strawberry. “You’re not peeking, are you?” he asked.